Skip to main content

Full text of "The career of a nihilist, a novel"

See other formats 


SS 


SX 


SAN 


~ 


WS WSN SX 


S 
\ 
SON 





Bese See See es ee ce ee PA ty SET STE 
. tween rme 
. by . = te. ba ko ck oe . “ + = = ~ \. ‘ae : =5° ¥ ~ a Mi * Se 5> 
Sos es ee ave ene ee ahem awe raeee ee e : eben —— - on ~. : as Sa ae mae oe 
pe eS ES aye 














BSA SSS 

















EE = ~ — 
—- 5 : S rs Ss 
coe Senet a - Aen ae 
Sees BERETS ea ee Teatasebatalees ere : Teter ese usa sec ee sooaes : 

























































































cat Xoo ePeese ree at at aT as = be = Oe = Rise rr ee 












































PSS : penn prec. 
Fp a 






















































































































































































F 
¥ 
- 

* 
‘ 











25 a. 
 — < ae - 
—— SS 


° Se ; 
SERRE Ee Pelee seers wonton * brie ae PEPE Re ee STRAP RT 


ene a — 
Bn ee as es 

















— ae! Tae 
e7' = 
J 
\ 


ci = a 


5 te 


Oj a eee 
% 


- = 


“. oe 


oo 
ee 
* 
- 
) 





4 : ritish Red Cross split “ot Sts jolie’ 
Le rt ibvarys 


48, Qu ‘es ogg London, W:2s 
t | 


be taken aways 


A 
& 
£ 
i 
E 
5 
a 
i 
5 
& 
5 
Hi 
§ 
' 


RNB ED jie 5 29 0 6 avs 


Pd ae 
neal al 


mn 





Biy STE PNIAK (pea) 


_ AUTHOR oF “UNDERGROUND RUSSIA,” ETC. 


. 












SECOND EDITION | aia 
496645 2 

2 9 AS 

LONDON Das 

WALTER SCOTT, 24 WARWICK LANE — 4 
NEW YORK eae 


A, LOVELL & CO:, 3 EAST 14TH STREET 





1890 





At Last - . 





IN SOLITUDE - 

AT THE FRONTIER 

A Busy Day : 
THE Two FRIENDS 

A MIXED Par - 
TANIA WINS HER SPURS 
REPIN’s MEDITATIONS 

A NEw CONVERT - 


GEORGE'S VERSES 





CONTENTS. 


—-3-—__— 


PART I.—THE ENTHUSIASTS. 


CHAPTER I. 


CHAPTER II. 


CHAPTER III. 


CHAPTER IV. 


CHAPTER V. 


CHAPTER VI. 


CHAPTER VII. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


CHAPTER IX. 


CHAPTER X, 


PAGE 


26 


37 


50 


58 


72 


79 


87 


99 





i~ =~ ey, A + ; 


Davip AGAIN” -. Z s =e 





1 | 
a, | CHAPTER II. 
: THE HEADQUARTERS OF THE CONSPIRATORS 
‘ i S- 
: Pegi. CHAPTER IIL 
= BIDING THE TIME - ai) Saree 
a CHAPTER IV. 
q A NEw PLAN “ 2 akg - 
Daa 
4 CHAPTER V. 
“s Tue Ficut = otal sa a 
| CHAPTER VI. 
VASILY GETS INTO TROUBLE - 5 
CHAPTER VIL. 
ZINA AT HOME - - - . 
CHAPTER VIII. 
AN UNEXPECTED COMPLICATION : 
CHAPTER IX. 
AT THE SAME WorkK - er - 
| CHAPTER X. 
THE CRISIS “ : - » 
| aaa CHAPTER XI. 
PENDING THE RESPITE - - -° 


CHAPTER I. 


PART II.--UNDER FI 


2 


- 








CONTENTS. 


PART TIL—ALL FOR THE CAUSE. 


x 


~ 


q | = CHAPTER I. 


, f 5 : ? ' ce 4 
| THE STUTTERER - : : : 


“> 


i, 


= CHAPTER IL. 
IN THE TEMPLE OF THEMIS - . : 


‘CHAPTER III. 


| STRUGGLING WITH ADVERSITY - — - 


:<§ 





q | CHAPTER IV. 
AN EDIFYING SIGHT~ - ; 


‘a Ty ee CHAPTER V. 

— - THe FaREWweEL Lerrer - > - : 
| CHAPTER VI. 

Tue Great ResoLurion : : 


* 


Na 
¥. 


a Se CHAPTER VII. 
Av Home - 5s : : : : 
Ee = 

- 2a CHAPTER VIII. 
_ Two GENERATIONS - - 


CHAPTER IX. 
ANDREY’S DREAM - ‘ = . 5 


CHAPTER X. 
FAREWELL - - . 3 


CHAPTER XI. 
THE LAstT WALK THROUGH THE Town 


225 
232 


245 


279 
291 
298 
304 


310 


‘i. Add 











_—s oe aa) 


PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 


2 
> 





To first write on politics, and then come forward as a novelist 
has its inconveniences, as I had to learn at my own expense. 
It is like appearing in two different characters in the same 
play: the spectators will always have some difficulty in 
discarding the impression they may have received from the 
first whilst looking at the second. 

I have nothing but thanks to offer to my English and 
American critics, whose reception of my novel as a novel was 
so cordial, whose censure was so mild, and whose praise so 
free and generous. 

But almost all of them have persisted in viewing my novel 
as a sort of political pamphlet in the guise of fiction. They 
assumed it to be the summing up of the Nihilists’ programme, 
both theoretical and practical, and very naturally reproached 
it for being exclusively negative in theory, and narrowly violent 
in practice. 

Be it permitted to me to say a word of explanation to my 
future readers. If they want to know what are the Nihilists as 
a political party: their very modest, sensible, and practical 
demands, the causes which called them into existence, etc., they 
must seek all this elsewhere. Here they will see the Nihilists 
as men, and not as politicians. 

Having been witness of and participator in a movement, 
which struck even its enemies by its spirit of boundless self- 


sacrifice, I wanted to show in the full light of fiction the 


inmost heart and soul of these humanitarian enthusiasts, ‘with 
whom devotion to a cause has attained to the fervour of a 
religion, without being a religion. 





x PREFACE. 


The eel” interest of sich: a study shut out en me 
political aims. My sole care was.to draw truthfully a certain 
type of modern humanity, which in our generous”age is 
reproduced in hundreds of forms throughout the world. 

If I chose the characters of my novel and laid its action 
among thé extreme or terrorist section of Russian revolu- 
tionists, it was simply because it seemed to me better suited - 
to my artistic purpose. Only in the whirlwind ‘of this” terrible 
struggle could my characters exhibit to the full what was most 
peculiar to them. But I was as little tempted to extol 
terrorism as to decry it. I only showed it, or rather let it 
show itself, such as it was, leaving the reader. to judge it as 
he chooses. 

It was found by most narrower than it actually was, This 
is partly my own fault. Working under the excusable delusion 
that something is known as to the general tendencies of the 
party which has attracted a certain amount of notice during 
fifteen years, I kept away from the central figures in the 
struggle, a picture of whose lives would be to some extent:a 
picture of their party., They are interesting in their own way, 
and I hope one day to introduce some of them to-my readers. 
But to me it was more tempting to draw the more charac- 
teristic, though less brilliant, types of the rank and file people, 
such as the reader will meet if he cares to follow the career of 
my modest hero. 

I had to accept the consequences of my choice. A novelist 
can only tell what his characters actually do and say and feel 
by themselves. In dwelling upon a small retired spot of the 
battle-field one could not expect to show the whole battle. 

But if in thus narrowing the field of my picture I have 
succeeded in bringing to greater prominence the human 
elements of Nihilist life, and making my few people more 
intimately known and better understood, I shall certainly not 
regret these unavoidable shortcomings. 


Niet mer fons Es at 
Eee Sime YM erin fei 
ome sisi eat 
Baa to. eb bil noo er: 33 
te feaysen: ae 8 as 
; 75 oe. SE ie = 
Beso diene, Zea 








_—— = YT) Sie ie ee ee Pee lial 
4 = La 4 - ~ = 
on ’ , : 

q , 





THE ENTHUSIASTS. 


. 
. 


CHAPTER I. 


AT LAST! 


Geneva garvgotte—the favourite haunt of Russian 
. exiles—and refused a cup of coffee. She had not 
denied herself this luxury since she was lucky enough to get 
those Russian pupils, but she was in a hurry to-day. In her 
pocket lay a long-expected letter from Russia. It had but now 
been handed to her by the old white-headed watchmaker, to 
whose address her foreign correspondence came. She was 
burning with impatience to hand over the precious missive to 
her friend Andrey, whom it particularly concerned, and to hear 
such general news as of course it contained. 

Exchanging a few words with a fellow-exile, the girl went 
through the rows of little tables occupied by groups of men in 
blouses, and passed out into the street. It was only half-past 
seven ; she was sure to find Andrey at home, he lodged close 
by ; and in five minutes Helen was at his door, her handsome, 
somewhat cold, face a little flushed by her quick walk. 

Andrey was alone, and at work upon a book of statistics, 
from which he was making extracts for his weekly article in a 
Russian provincial paper. He turned his head, and rose with 
outstretched hand to welcome his visitor. 

*“‘ Here’s a letter for you,” said Helen, shaking hands. 

*“ Oh,” he exclaimed. ‘At last!” 

He was a young man, of six or seven-and-twenty, with an 
earnest good-natured face, rather regular and firmly cut. His 
forehead was touched with traces of early cares, and his eyes 
were unusually thoughtful; but this did not impair the impres- 


H “cere Helen finished her frugal meal at the little 





4 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


sion of steadiness and equanimity conveyed by his face and his 
strong well-shaped figure. 

A slight flush rose to his brow, whilst the fingers of his thin 
muscular hand, with nervous haste, tore open the envelope. 
He unfolded a great sheet of paper, which was covered with 
lines wide apart, written in a minute irregular hand. - 

Helen, who seemed no less impatient than himself, came to 
his side, and laid her hand upon his shoulder, that she too 
might see and read. 

“We had better sit down, Lena,” said the young man. 
“you are shutting out the light with your curls.” 

In truth the shabby room was very scantily lighted by a 
single lamp, upon which was fixed a green paper shade. Only 
the bare boards, the legs of a few common chairs, and the 
lower part of a mahogany chest of drawers, the chief ornament 
of the place, were properly lighted up. The yellow papered 
walls, with a cheap lithograph of the Swiss general Dufour, a 
stereotype landscape, the photograph. of the landlady’s deceased 
husband, and her own school certificate framed and glazed,— 
all were plunged in a zone of twilight, very advantageous for 
them but quite unfit for reading. 

Andrey brought another chair to the round dining-table, 
littered with books and papers, and adjusted the reflector so as 
to throw more light upon the corner that he used as a writing- — 
desk. Helen sat by him, and so near, that sometimes her hair 
touched his. But they never heeded this in their absorption. 

With a woman’s quickness Helen ran over the page in a 
rapid glance, and was the first to offer her opinion. 

“There’s nothing in the letter!” she exclaimed. “ Mere 
rubbish! We needn’t waste our time in reading it.” 

However strange such advice might appear, it did not seem 
to affect Andrey, who replied quietly,— 

‘““No, wait a bit. I recognise George’s handwriting, and he 
generally puts in something to the purpose. It won’t take long 
to read anyhow. 

““*My dear Andrey Anempodistovitch, I hasten to inform 
you’...hm...hm... ‘owing to the severe frosts’ 
hm...hm.. .‘sheepand the young cattle’. ..hm..., 
murmured Andrey, skipping rapidly over the lines. 

“Ah, here’s something about domestic affairs. Let’s see.” 

“* As to our domestic affairs’”—he read in the tone of a 
reporting clerk—‘ ‘I have to tell you . . . sister Kate married 


” 








. AT LAST! 5 


. whom she met last autumn at... husband proved to 
be a man without principles or honour, who . . . and worse, 
. . . broken hearted. ... I should never have thought she 

Father is much depressed, and . ... grey hairs. Our 
only hope is that the all-healing balsam of time, the comforter 
of the afflicted. . . .’” 

The pathetic passage was interrupted by a merry laugh 
from Helen,—or Lena, as her friend called her. 

Tt’s easy to see,” she said, “ that it was written by a poet.” 

In no way shocked by this misplaced hilarity, Andrey went 
on at greater speed, muttering between his teeth the remainder 
of the letter. 

“ Yes, you were right. It was not worth reading,” he said 
at last, showing but little sign however of his disappointment 
under the trying circumstances. 

Presently he looked round as if searching for something. 

*‘ Here it is,” he said, taking a small black phial from the 
mantelpiece, where it stood by a tin spirit-lamp over which he 
prepared his tea for breakfast. 

Lena handed to him the glass brush, whilst Andrey care- 
fully smoothed out the letter. ‘Then dipping the brush into the 
bottle he passed it several times over the page before him. 

The black lines, written with common ink, rapidly dis- 
appeared, as if melting in the corrosive liquid. For an 
instant the paper remained a blank. Then suddenly it was 
all movement and life. From its inmost depths, as if thrust 
up from below, came forth, hurrying and crowding one upon 
another, words, letters, phrases—here, there, everywhere! It 
was a disorderly rout, as of soldiers at the call of the alarm- 
_ bugle rushing from their tents to fall into the ranks. 

Then the letters stood still; the movement ceased. In 
some remote corner a belated word or letter still struggled to 
break the thin shroud under which it lay buried, slipping 
unobserved into its place by the side of its nimbler companions; 
but in the upper part of the page all was over. In place of 
the former mock letters, serried lines of close straight hand- 
writing stood ready to unfold the message they had faithfully 
carried to the pair who now leaned over the table with flushed 
faces and glistening eager eyes. . 

“Tl read it to you!” exclaimed Lena. And _ before 
Andrey could say a word, or otherwise protect his property, 
the impatient girl snatched up the letter and began :— 





6 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“¢ Dear Brother,—I am charged by our friends to answer 
your letter, and to tell you how thoroughly we agree with you 
as to your return to Russia. We can assure you that the 
desire to see you among us has been much oftener felt than 
you suppose. But we always hesitated to recall you, knowing 
too well the dangers to which you especially will be exposed. 
We always postponed your recall until a moment of urgent 
need. ‘That moment has now arrived. Of course you know 
through the papers of our recent victories. But you probably 
do not know how dearly they were bought. Our League has 
had heavy losses. Several of our best people have perished. 
The gendarmes believe they have crushed us altogether. Of 
course we shall pull through. There are more than ever ready 
to join us, but they have not been tried. We cannot spare your 
services any longer. Therefore come. We all expect you,—the 
old friends who have never forgotten you, and the new ones 
who are as anxious as ourselves to welcome you. Come as 
quickly as you can.’” — 

Lena paused. She was really glad for Andrey’s sake, for 
they were very good friends. Raising her head, she wrapt 
him in a look full of sympathy. 

But she could only see his close-cut black hair, stiff as a 
horse’s mane. Andrey had drawn out his chair, and was lean- 
ing over the back of it, his chin in his hand, absorbed in 
contemplation of some knots in the deal floor. Whether he 
was shunning the glare of the lamp, or was shy of meeting her 
eyes, Lena did not stop to inquire. She went on with her 
reading. | 

The letter dealt with abstract matters at some length. It 
pointed to the considerable changes which had taken place of 
late in the domain of practical politics, and in the immediate 
objects which the party proposed to attain. 

“All this,’” the writer concluded, “ ‘ will probably surprise 
and perhaps offend you at first, but I have no doubt that in a 
short time you, as a practical worker, will accept it.’ ” 

Here Lena had to turn over the page, and was brought up 
short by the nonsense of the pretended letter. She had for- 
gotten for the moment that it had to be washed away before 
the real one could appear. The first words she inadvertently 
read, affected her like the intrusion of farce into a serious 
drama. 


She took the phial and the brush, and rapidly moistened 





AT LAST! 7 


the remaining pages. In a few instants they underwent the 
same transformation. But they had a somewhat different 
appearance. ‘The ordinary running hand was interrupted here 
and there by long passages in cipher, which evidently con- 
tained news of particular importance. The cipher was a 
protection if the police should conceive some special suspicion, 
and not satisfied with reading the letter should try chemicals 
to see if there were hidden contents. 

The ciphering was only occasional at first, the groups of 
large closely-written figures rising over the even lines of the 
ordinary handwriting like groves and bushes upon a field of 
grass. But further on the clusters of ciphers became thicker, 
until at the middle of the third page the figures joined ina 
regular forest, as in tables of logarithms, without the slightest 
interruption of punctuation. 

“Look here, Andrey, what a treat for you!” said Lena, 
pointing to the masses of cipher. ‘I am sure George put in 
so much of this on purpose for you !” 

“A friendly service, upon my word!” rejoined the young 
man. 

He hated the work of deciphering, and was wont to say that 
it was for him a sort of corporal punishment. 

“Do you know,” he went on, “we have at least six hours’ 
work over this stuff ?” 

“Not so much as that, you lazy fellow. The two of us will 
get through it much quicker than that.” 

“ But I am rather out of practice. You must write me out 
the key to refresh my memory.” 

This she did at once, and, armed each with a sheet of 
paper, they set themselves patiently to the task. It was by no 
means an easy one. George used the double cipher of the 
League ; the original figures in the letter had to be changed by 
means of a key into another set of figures, and these again by 
the aid of a second key were finally resolved into words. ‘This 
afforded an endless variety of signs for each letter of the 
alphabet, and made the cipher absolutely proof against dis- 
covery, even by the ablest experts of the police. But if the 
writing was defective it sometimes remained a mystery even to 
those for whom it was intended. 

George, as became a poet, was by no means a model of 
carefulness, and at times his friends were driven to the verge of 
despair. _Some parts of his cipher obstinately refused to yield 





8 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


anything but neighing, bleating, grunting, hissing syllables, from 
which no Christian word seemed likely to emerge. And, as if © 
on purpose, these hitches always occurred in passages which 
were, or seemed to be, the most important and interesting of 
all. If George, who at this very moment was doing his duty 
in the distant capital of the Tzars, was not suddenly seized with a 
violent fit of hiccups, it was not because his friends failed to 
abuse him soundly. 

Without Lena’s assistance Andrey would often have come 
to grief. But the girl was an experienced cipher-reader, and 
had a knack of guessing what was amiss. When Andrey’s pluck 
failed him, and he proposed to give up some passage as hope- 
less, she would take both sheets in her hand and guess by a 
stroke of inspiration how George must have gone wrong, 

In a little more than two hours they had finished the de- 
tached pieces of cipher. These dealt with the details of 
Andrey’s journey, giving the names and addresses of the people 
to whom he must apply on arriving at St Petersburg and at the 
Russian frontier. 

Andrey carefully copied all the addresses upon a small piece 
of paper, which he placed in his purse, to be learned by heart 
before he started. 

Now they had only the continuous piece to unravel. It 
evidently referred to a. different topic, presumably of a par- 
ticularly dangeraus and compromising nature, since the writer 
took the trouble to cipher every word. 

What bloody secrets might not this forest conceal? Andrey 
stared at it, eager to guess. But the forest kept its secret 
jealously, looking provokingly mute and monotonous in its 
capricious variety. 


After a few minutes’ rest they set to work with redoubled — j 


vigour, laying bare the hidden meaning bit by bit. 

Letter by letter Andrey wrote out the final results of the 
deciphering. When he had words enough to complete a sen- 
tence, he read it aloud to Lena. But the first words affected 
him so painfully, that he was unable to wait for the end of the 
sentence. 

“Something bad has happened to Boris, I am certain!” he 
exclaimed. ‘“ Look here.” . 

Lena looked quickly at the sheet Andrey showed her and 
then at her own. There could be no mistake; the passage 
referred to Boris,—one of the ablest and most influential of 





; 
AT LAST! 9 


their party,—and the beginning of the sentence sounded ugly,— 
more ugly than Andrey suspected, for she guessed the next two 
’ letters that were to follow. But she kept her own counsel, and 
-went on dictating. 

“ Five, three.” 

«Seven, nine ;” Andrey echoed, looking at the key for the 
final letter. 

“Quick!” Lena exclaimed impatiently. ‘‘ Don’t you see it 
is an a.” 

The ill-omened @ was put down by Andrey. 

The next letter was an 7, which was still worse. 

The third, the fourth, the fifth letters were set down, and 
their last doubts, if they had any, vanished. Without another 
word they went on deciphering with feverish impatience to the 
end of the line, and after a few minutes’ work they both saw in 
black on white, ‘Boris has been recently arrested in Dubravnik.” 

They looked at each other in blank consternation. Arrests, 
like death, always appear absurd, incredible, even when they are 
fully anticipated. 

“Tn Dubravnik! What the deuce had he to do in that 
damned Dubravnik ? ” 

“Let us go on,” Lena said; “perhaps we shall learn. 
There must be some further details about his arrest.” 

They resumed their irritatingly slow work, unravelling in 
some ten minutes, that seemed an hour, another couple of lines. 
They only learned that Boris, with two other friends, had been’ 
arrested, after a severe fight with the police. This was little, 
but it was enough to show that the case was desperate. What- 
ever had been Boris’s part in the struggle, he was a doomed 
man. According to a new law, all complicity in such acts was 
punished with death. And Boris was not the man to hold his 
hand whilst others were fighting. 

“Poor Zina!” they both sighed, 

Zina was Boris’s wife. 

After a short pause Lena again poured forth a series of 
figures, which in a few minutes yielded the name of the woman 
whose lot they had been pitying. ‘‘ Zina——” 

“Zina! Is it possible?” Andrey exclaimed. 

His first thought was that she also had been arrested. 

But after another five minutes of painful suspense it became 
clear that he was mistaken. 

“Zina,” the letter informed them, ‘‘has gone to Dubravnik to 





fe) THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


survey the ground, and see what can be done towards the 
rescue of Boris.” 

_ Oh, they are thinking of that! Iam so glad,” said Andrey. 
“ Another reason for my hastening home.” 

The passage referring to Boris was followed by a list of the 
other victims who had recently fallen into the hands of the 
police. The forthcoming trials were mentioned, and the Dra- 
conian sentences foretold, according to secret information 
obtained from officials. The melancholy news about the 
friends who were in prison was briefly summarised,—all this in 
the calm business-like way in which reports upon the dead and 
wounded are drawn up after a battle. 

The reverse side of the underground struggle oozed sadly 
out drop by drop. There was no possibility of swallowing the 
bitter draught at once. At the mention of some particularly 
sad piece of news, they could not refrain from exchanging a few 
words. Otherwise they went on with their work uninter- 
ruptedly, keeping their feelings to themselves. 

They now got on much more rapidly than before. George’s 
ciphering became steadier, and the unravelling went on almost 
without a hitch. After the dreary record of losses and suffer- 
ings, they entered upon pleasanter ground. Here George 
mentioned briefly, but with a faith and fervour all his own, the 
rapid progress of the movement in general, instancing the great 
fermentation of spirit which could be observed everywhere. 

It was like a war-cry after a walk over a battlefield, or the 
look of a sunny landscape after a visit to the catacombs. The 
egotism of life, with its rights and its excitements, crept upon 
them, and they emerged from their dreary journey in much 
higher spirits than they could have expected. 

“Yes, there will be a smash before long!” exclaimed Lena, 
in exultation, though she was a very orthodox “ peasantist,” 
and all the matters George alluded to were in direct opposition 
to the articles of her belief. 

She rose to stretch her numbed limbs by walking to and fro, 
Presently she took the letter, carefully dried it over the lamp, 
and lit a match with the evident intention of setting fire to it. 

“Oh, don’t!” interposed Andrey, quickly. 

“Why? haven’t you copied the address ? ” 

“Yes, but I want to keep the letter for a while.” 

“What for ? that it might fall into some stranger’s hands ?” 
retorted the girl sharply. 








AT LAST! II 


Andrey said that these precautions were superfluous in 
Switzerland. But Lena was not easily persuaded; like most 
women engaged in conspiracies, she was a strict observer of 
the rules. © 

“But perhaps you'll accept a compromise,” she said, 
relenting. 

She tore off the first half of the letter containing the 
personal matters, and carefully erased the few pieces of cipher. 

“You want to read this, don’t you?” she asked. 

“Never mind. I accept your bargain. I like this part 
certainly better, and give up my claim upon the rest,” said 
Andrey, whilst the girl, kneeling before the fireplace, carefully 
burned the remainder, together with the two sheets upon which 
they had worked out the cipher. Her conscience at ease, she 
resumed her seat. 

**So you are leaving us, Andrey,” she said, dreamily. 

There was a greater warmth than usual in the tone of her 
voice, and in the look of her honest bold blue eyes as she 
fixed them upon her companion. For those who remain, there 
is always something touching in the sight of a man, about to 
leave his place of refuge, and risk his life once more in the 
dominions of the Tzar. 

** Will you start soon?” she asked. 

** Yes,” said Andrey. ‘The money and the passport will 
be here in three or four days, I hope. ‘That is quite long 
enough for my preparations.” 

Then, after a hardly perceptible pause, he added abruptly, 

“T wish I knew whether they have already found out his 
name.” 


“Whom do you mean?” inquired the girl, lifting her eyes. 

“Boris. Who else?” 

That great loss had not ceased gnawing at Andrey’s heart 
all the time, notwithstanding his apparent calmness and 
cheerfulness. 

“T do not think they could discover it so soon,” Lena 
answered. ‘ Boris has never been in Dubravnik before. 
Besides, George would have mentioned a point of such im- 
portance.” 

“JT wish you were right,” said Andrey. ‘The rescue 
would be so much easier. Anyhow I shall soon know all 
about it.” 


They talked business. The girl had evidently some 


12 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


personal experience in the work of smuggling a Russian into 
his fatherland. She gave her friend some valuable sugges- 
tions, though he was several years her senior. 

“When you are in the whirlpool, you mustn’t altogether 
forget us here,” she said, with a sigh. ‘‘ You must write some- 
times to me or to Vasily. I want to return also. You must 
manage that for me if you can.” 

“With pleasure. And, by-the-by, where’s Vasily himself? 
Why haven’t you brought him with you?” 

‘‘ He wasn’t at the café. Isent him word to come here. 
Probably he is out—at the opera, I think. ‘They are playing - 
‘Robert’ to-night. Otherwise he would have been here 
long ago.” 7 

She put her hand into her pocket, and drew from it a large 
and heavy gold watch, of ancient make. It was a family 
possession she was very fond of, because it came to her from 
her father, a general of the times of Nicholas. The watch 
had been with her to Siberia, and now she had brought 
it into exile. It served occasionally as a timekeeper, but more 
often it lay peacefully—in her own or some friend’s interest— 
in the pawnbroker’s safe. These people lived in such close 
_ relations as practically to exclude the notion of private pro- 
perty. The fact that the watch was in the possession of its 
rightful owner was a conclusive sign that the small body of her 
former fellow-conspirators were for the time rather in clover. 

‘Oh, how late it is!” said Lena. ‘ Past twelve. I must 
run home, so as to be in good time for my lesson to-morrow.” 

“‘ And I, for my literary exploits,” observed Andrey. 

“ By the way,” said the girl, ‘you must arrange before you 
go for some of our people to carry on your work.” 

“By all means. It will do very well for Vasily. With his 
modest habits, eighty francs a month will be amply sufficient 
for all his needs.” 

“Certainly it will,” said Lena, with unnecessary fretfulness. 

‘‘And even to spare something for taking you to concerts 
or the opera!” 

‘The girl blushed, though she was prepared for some sally 
of this kind. Andrey always teased her about her admirer. 
But she had the unconquerably ready blush of fair-skinned girls. 

‘Vasily isa man of rigid principles, anyhow. Nota sybarite 
like you,” she said, with a smile. ‘ But, good-bye, I mustn’t 
stop to quarrel with you.” . 











AT LAST! 13 


He took the lamp to light her downstairs, and he watched 
her safely into her house, a block off across the street. Then 
he returned slowly to his solitary room. 

The leaflet of the letter lay temptingly upon the table. Lena 
had guessed the truth. In asking for the letter, he intended, 
when alone, to feast upon those kind words from his distant 
friends. But he could not do it now. The girl by guessing 
it had spoiled his pleasure for him. He put the letter into 
his pocket to read next day. Now he was resolved to go to 
sleep. 

He opened the folding-doors at the back of the room and 
disclosed an alcove. With this addition, his narrow and rather 
low room looked exactly like an empty cigar-box or a coffin. 

He made the bed ready. But all was useless; he felt it 
impossible to sleep ; he was too excited. 

Three long, long years had elapsed since Andrey Kojukhoy, 
compromised in the first attempts at propaganda among the 
peasants, as well as in later struggles, had been urged by 
his friends to take an “airing.” Since that time he had 
rambled over various countries, trying in vain to find some 
occupation for his restless spirit. Before the first year of his 
voluntary exile came to an end, violent home-sickness took 
hold of him, and he asked his friends, who held the field in 
St Petersburg, to allow him to return and take his place again 
in their ranks. It was peremptorily refused. ‘There was a lull 
in the struggle; the police had nothing in particular to run 
after; and as his name was still well remembered by them, 
if he returned he might set all the gang in motion. Unable to 
do anything, he would only be a burden upon the friends, who 
would have to look after his safety. He ought to have under- 
stood this for himself. When there was any need of his return 
they would let him know. In the meantime he must keep 
quiet, and try to find work, either in revolutionary literature, or 
in the social movement abroad. 

Andrey tried both, but with more zeal than success. He 
wrote for several Russian papers published abroad. But nature 
had denied him any literary talent. He felt within him an 


- ardent enthusiastic soul; he was far from being insensible to 


what was beautiful and poetical. But the channels between 
his sentiments and their utterance were blocked in him, and 
things which profoundly stirred his heart, when set down by 
him on paper, looked savourless and commonplace. His occa- 


14 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


sional contributions to the papers were no more than tolerably 
good padding. 

Still less successful was he in his other attempts to procure 
employment during his long leave of absence. He overcame 
in a few months the obstacle of the language. But it was 
impossible for him to serve two masters at once. His heart 
and soul were filled with Russian cares, Russian aspirations, 
and Russian recollections. He felt himself a passing guest at 
the meetings of foreign socialists, and his home-sickness grew 


worse and worse. He was about to write again, when a living 


message from his friends arrived in the person of Helen 
Zubova, his companion in the conquest of the letter. Having 
just escaped from Siberia, she had come to St Petersburg to 
offer her services to the League, which at once advised her to 
cross the frontier and live for a while abroad. She brought, 
together with many greetings from his friends, an injunction to 
keep quiet and be reasonable. For the time there was no need 
of either of them in Russia. Lena’s presence abroad was a 
material proof of this. 

Nothing was left to Andrey but to make a virtue of necessity. 
Time had blunted the edge of his first disappointment. He 
had gradually made up his mind to the life of an exile, with its 
petty troubles and vexations, and its profound pleasures found 
in an unrestricted access to all the treasures of thought. ‘hus 
he passed three years of quiet uneventful existence, enlivened 
only by the feverish expectation of something new coming from 
Russia. 

He did not wait in vain. After a brief pause the smoulder- 
ing revolution burst out with redoubled energy, and Andrey 
was eager to seize the opportunity. He sent a new request, 
which he urged upon his friends with an energy and eloquence 
that unfortunately were never found in his more elaborate com- 
positions. ‘There were no longer any grounds for delay, and after 
a few more weeks of expectation, George’s letter was his answer. 

“Ves, at last!” he repeated, as he slowly paced up and 
down his coffin-like room, thinking upon his journey. 

In his voice there was no exultation, but a strange calmness 
that had a touch of melancholy in it. The arrest of Boris ?>— 
Yes, but this was not all. The idea of the return to his 
country had lost something of its charm. He was surprised, 
and somewhat disappointed, to feel quite in a placid mood. 


From his former longings, he had anticipated that the summons | 








AT LAST! 15 


would fill him with rapture. Now that the thing had come at 
last, he felt it so natural and simple, that he almost forgot the 
many thousand miles and the many perils of the journey which 
separated the expectation from the reality. The tame experi- 
ences of exile disappeared from his thoughts, and he was once 


‘more in St Petersburg, with all its well-known surroundings, as 


if he had left it but yesterday. 

In this matter-of-fact mood he faced the important questions 
contained in George’s letter, and felt angry with his friend for 
supposing that he would be persuaded so easily. No, not he. 
He thoroughly approved of the new acts of revolutionary 
terrorism, but he did not like their interpretation. The tend: 
ency of the League towards centralising all power in the hands 
of the Executive Committee was decidedly distasteful to him. 
The first thing he would try, would be to persuade his friend 
of the danger of such a course. 

His brain began to work, and gradually he grew warm over 
the argument, as he strode with quickened step up and down 
his room. 

A loud knocking suddenly interrupted his soliloquy, and 
recalled him to reality. It came through the floor from the 
lodger below, whose forbearance had been exhausted by his 
mad striding to and fro. With the help of a broomstick he 
was telegraphing an angry message to his neighbour upstairs. 

* Ah,” exclaimed Andrey, “ it is Monsieur Cornichon. 
The good man wants to sleep, and does not care a fig whether 
the Russian revolution goes the-right or the wrong way ! ” 

He stopped abruptly to signify his apology, and stood 
motionless until the knocking ceased. As he did not want to 
go to bed, and could not keep quiet as long as he was on his 
feet, he determined on taking a short walk in the beautiful 
spring night. He put out the lamp, and, leaving the room 
locked, hid the key as usual under the mat. 


CHAPTER IL. 
IN SOLITUDE. 


| 4 NOWING the house well, Andrey groped his way down 
the stone staircase, and came out into the fresh air. 

The night was clear and bright, the full moon shone 

from the vault of the sky. He went down the narrow street in 
which his house stood, and turned to the left through a small 
square, shadowed by a few gigantic lime trees, under which, 
according to tradition, Jean Jacques Rousseau had often rested. 
Keeping on in the same direction, in a few minutes he found 
himself in an open space facing the Botanical Gardens, sur- 
rounded by gold-tipped railings, which glistened upon the dark 
background of exotic vegetation. A breeze so gentle, that he 
could hardly determine from whence it blew, fanned his face 
refreshingly. As he rapturously inhaled the invigorating per- 
fumes of the night, the lake, and the gardens, he felt another 
man. A new sense of enjoyment took possession of him. He 
delighted in the world about him, in his peace of mind, in his 
bodily health and vigour, which imparted a peculiar elasticity to 
his limbs. He wanted to move, to go somewhere—but where ? 
The slumbering city, with its rows of shopkeepers’ palaces, 
—the gorgeous hotels,—stretched on his left along the Rhone. 
He loved the powerful stream, with its blue-green or jet-black 
foaming waters rushing impetuously between the narrow steeps 
of its stony banks. On sunny suffocating days he would stand 
for hours watching the magical play of light upon the tremulous 


mosaic of the river-bed, shining amidst the dark clusters of 


hairy weeds. 

But there were all these palaces to pass,—this congeries of 
prosaic and money-grubbing littlenesses, slumbering after their 
daily exertions. No; he could not bear this to-night, and he 
strode away in the opposite direction along the lake. . 

This favourite holiday walk of the Genevan citizens and 
their families was now completely deserted. Not a footstep, 











IN SOLITUDE. 17 


not one disturbing noise, broke upon the majestic quiet of the 
night. The lake was calm; and the gentle rhythmical plash of 
the waves lulled his senses, without driving away the glorious 
visions which thronged his excited brain. 
A new leaf of his life was to be turned. A few days hence 
he would be thousands of miles away in his own country, in 
another. world, amid entirely new surroundings. How great 
the changes since he had left St Petersburg! There were 
hardly half-a-dozen of his old companions left in the League. 
Only two of them were at that moment in the capital. All the 
rest were new people, recruited during the three years of his 
absence. — 

Would they be able to agree, and to work together without 
much friction? But no matter! he had great confidence in 
his own power of adaptability as a practical conspirator. Of 
old he had been particularly fond of being thrown into entirely 
new places, where everything and everybody were new to him. 
He felt reviving in him the lust for struggle and for danger, 
and the cool dogged pluck, of those whom defeat renders only 
more obstinate and persistent 

A contemptuous smile passed over his lips as he thought of 
the boasts of the police mentioned by George. The fools! They 
supposed things to be at an end, when they were only beginning ! 
He knew by reputation the most prominent of the new men. 
Some of them he remembered having met at the meetings of 
the students’ secret clubs. ‘They must have grown into splendid 
fellows since then. It was rare luck indeed to cast in one’s lot 
with such men. He had been pained of late by the thought 
that his three years’ absence had reduced to the strength of a 
spider’s thread the links which united him with his people. 
Now he knew that they were as closely united in common 
brotherhood as ever. ‘The fulness of affection which breathed 
from their message found in his heart a warm response. How 
could he fear any possible friction or misunderstanding with 
men who could think of sparing him, personally a stranger to 
most of them, whilst they themselves were under fire ? 

‘ He did not for a moment flatter himself that there was 
' anything in himself to merit this consideration. ‘Though he 
“ had but just entered upon manhood, the precocity and 
_ intensity of his life had supplied him with experience which 
' would have amply sufficed for a man ten years his senior. At 
alain he was a staid man, who had long outlived the 
B 
| 


{ 


{ 





18 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


age of illusions. The kindness of his friends did not rouse his 
vanity. ‘Theirs was the generosity of affection, which does not 
measure its gifts. He accepted it as a good omen, with thank- 
fulness, and bright pure joy. Yes, this is the rock upon which 
their church was built, and the gates of hell shall not prevail 
against it ! 

He slackened his pace. Without meaning it he had come 
a long way from the town. The moon had sunk, and was now 
staring him full in the face irritatingly. The level shore to the 
right began to slope gently upwards. He noticed a narrow 
passage between the stone walls which in Switzerland are used 
to fence the orchards and vineyards. Probably it led to some 
out-of-the-way place, for the grass in the crevices between the 
big smooth pebbles, with which it was paved, showed it to be 
but little used. 

Andrey plunged into its shadows, and began to ascend the ~ 
slope. It grew steeper as he went on. The roof of some 
building abruptly overshadowed the lane. He looked up, and 
saw a black waving line of tiles projected against the blue sky. 
In the walls of the weather-beaten building were narrow perpen- 
dicular slits. It was evidently a stable. A cow, chewing the 
cud within, snorted as she smelt the approaching stranger, but 
as he passed on she quietly took to her ruminating again. 

A little farther vineyards began, the thick clusters of vines 
overhanging the coping of the walls. Some hundred yards 
farther the lane turned short to the left, running in a broad 
curve between the two long walls, which gave it the appearance 
of an empty aqueduct. A narrow flight of stone stairs built 
against the hill side, marked out a shadow of exaggerated zig- 
zags upon the rough masonry. When Andrey had climbed 
them he saw an open field dotted with hazels. A footpath, 
probably connecting the lower road with another on a higher 
level, shone like a stream of water upon the emerald green 
moonlit sward. | 

Andrey ventured into the path. At the top of the slope 
stood a clump of willows, which attracted him. But after a short 
distance the path, spreading out in a level tract of soft ground 
disappeared. Straining his eyes a little, Andrey observed in the 
distance another turn of the pathway ascending a small bushy 
hillock to the right. He climbed this, and was surprised to find 
himself in front of an ordinary garden-bench with arms anda 
comfortable sloping back, reminding him disagreeably of man’s 








| ae 


IN SOLITUDE. 19 


intrusion upon this charming solitude. The seat could not be 
seen from a distance: the long branches of a weeping willow 
under which it stood wrapped it in darkness. 

Pushing aside the yielding branches, Andrey penetrated 
within the alluring green vault and sat down. When he raised 
his head and looked out, he jumped to his feet with an ex- 
clamation of wonder and delight. 

What he saw was only the lake; but from this particular 
spot, and at this particular moment, it looked so fantastically 
transfigured that he had some difficulty at first in recognising it. 
He stood upon a terrace, a few steps from the edge, whose 
height concealed all the strip of shore between it and the water. 
The white swollen lake was there, right under his feet, as if by 
some spell the ground on which he stood, trees, bench, every- 
thing, had been detached from their base and were held sus- 
pended in the air over the enormous mass of glistening water. 
Nay, it was too bright to be water. It seemed a gleaming sea 
of molten silver, without a perceptible ripple, stretching right 
and left far as the eye could reach, and filling all space with a 
flood of light reflected from its surface. 

Andrey drew near the edge of the little platform that he 
might see better, and the illusion was at once destroyed. ‘The 
tops of the houses and the trees at his feet leaped up out of the 
darkness, dense and murky, against the dazzling brightness of 
the water. The receding quay with its diminutive benches 
and well-trimmed plane trees, the white piers projecting into 
the lake like the tentacles of some strange sea-beast, the gaslit 
bridge and town, the low Swiss coast looming in the distance 
wrapped in a blue mist which made coast and sky seem one, so 
that the watch-fires upon the mountains appeared to be golden 
stars fixed in the firmament,—all this was a beautiful panorama, 
but it had not the magic of the other. 

He returned to the bench, and was no longer angry with the 
people who had put it there. He was keenly alive to the 
beauties of nature, though he loved her fitfully and somewhat 
selfishly, as those absorbed in a special pursuit so often do. 

This was the last time he would look upon these charming 
sights. It was a leave-taking before going where duty called 
him. ‘There was in his heart a sense of deep unruffled peace, 
such as he did not remember feeling for years. ‘The great calm 
of the scene spoke strongly to his soul. It seemed to him that 
never had his enjoyment been so full, so pure, so elevating as now. 


20 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


Yet the current of thought which passed listlessly through 
his mind, ashe sat there lost in contemplation, did not tend to 
harmony with the calm of the scenery. 

There is a certain pleasure in thinking of afflictions when 
they have lost their sting and become things of the past. 

Andrey passed in review his exile life, and it was exactly 
its darkest side which his memory sought and dwelt upon with 
strange persistency. 

He had not shared with his kith and kin the cup of bitter- 
ness which they had been forced to drink ; and yet, somehow, he 
felt as if he had tasted its bitterest dregs. Thrown out of 
active life himself, he had only to look with folded hands— 
upon what? Not even upon the struggle of his friends, but 
upon the cold-blooded massacre of the best of them. ‘The 
first onslaught of the revolution was repelled with enormous 
losses. A deep discouragement crept over the classes that 
furnished its chief contingent. The scattered remnant of once 
formidable forces, faithful to their banner, fought to the end. 
Very few of them left their country to seek refuge abroad. 
They were dying at their posts by scores, by hundreds, men 
and women, far better than he. 

But why, then, was he alive ? 

How many times, overwhelmed with pain, had he asked 
himself that question! 

A terrible vision rose suddenly before his memory. 

It is night. A dimly lighted cell in one of the southern 
prisons. Its inmate—a young student—is stretched upon the 
straw mattress. His hands and feet are tightly bound with 
ropes. His head and body are covered with bruises. He has 
just been shamefully beaten by the gaolers, because he did 
not show himself sufficiently submissive. Smarting under the 
brutal insult, he is meditating the only revenge left him—that 
of a frightful suicide. Fire shall be his instrument. In the 
dead of the night he rises with effort from his bed. He takes 
off with his mouth the hot lamp glass, which scorches his lips ; 
he unscrews with his teeth the burner, and upsets the oil over 
his mattress. When it has saturated the straw, he drops upon 
the mattress the burning wick, and stretches himself once more 
upon this bed of fire. ‘There he lies, without a groan, whilst the 
fire licks and burns his flesh. When the gaolers, attracted by 
the smoke, rush into the cell, they find him half charred and 
dying. 





eM ie ie 





 —— i ee FO er 


IN SOLITUDE. 21 


This was no nightmare. It was a frightful reality. For 
months the harrowing vision had persecuted Andrey, and now 
it rose before him as if he had seen it but yesterday. 

And in the meantime, while-these horrors went on there, 
in his own country, what was he doing? . He remained in 


_ ignominious security, studying clever books, admiring the 


beauties of nature and the wonders of art. And his 
conscience, stern, implacable inquisitor, whispered in his 
ear insidiously: Why, is there nothing .besides. your friends’ 
arguments which keeps you where you are? Are you really so 
anxious to give up safety and to put once more your neck into 
the noose, or to exchange your room for an underground cell 
in a ravelin of the Tzars ? 

In the unnatural life he led, what but empty words could 
he bring forward in answer to these gnawing questions? And 
he did not always succeed in silencing thus his terrible judge. 
He knew the anguish of doubt and the pangs of self-condem- 
nation. ‘There were moments when he deemed his former 
revolutionary zeal but .an ebullition of youth and of love of 
strong sensations,—when he thought his life a failure, and him- 
self a clod of earth aspiring to become a stone ina marble 
temple, a dwarf in a giant’s armour, and he felt as crestfallen, 
crushed, and wretched as a living soul can. 

Andrey completely lost control over his thoughts. He 
called up these memories as the German doctor called up the 
spirits that waited on his will—as a pastime, a kind of spiritual 
enjoyment. But they were too strong for him, and now they 
held him in their cruel clutches, and mastered him in real 
earnest. No sign of enjoyment could be detected in his 
drooped head, or in the nervous movement of the hand which 
swept his bowed forehead as if to brush away these crowding 
recollections. 

But it is all over now, sunk in oblivion and nothingness, as 
the ugly dreams and phantasms of the night fly before the face 
of morning. In this solemn moment, before crossing the fatal 
threshold which he was certain never to recross, he could 
measure himself with certainty. ‘The long years of enervating 
inaction had left no trace upon his soul. It was like a sword 
left idle in the sheath. Now he unsheathed it before him, 
scrutinising it with severe and experienced eye. No, there was 
no rust upon it; it was clean, sharp, ready for the battle as 
ever. 


22 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


A fierce gladness flashed in his darkened eyes as he looked 
straight before him. He rose to his feet; he longed to get 
away. ‘There was nothing to keep him here. Nature’s beauties 
had lost the power of producing the slightest impression upon 
him. Mechanically he returned on his former way through 
the grey twilight of the grove. His face was pale, but calm 
and somewhat gloomy, whilst all was trembling within his 
heaving breast. His widely opened eyes looked wistfully into 
the darkness, but he scarcely saw anything. If the sharp thorns 
of some bush had lacerated his body, he would not have 
noticed it. He was almost beside himself with the violent 
emotions boiling from the depths of his soul and permeating 
his whole being. 

He could not say this feeling was quite new to him. Now 
and then he had experienced something similar, though never 
had he been so wholly under its power. It was rapture, yet it 
was unutterably sad, as if his soul were filled with wailing, and 
his heart brimful of tears; but the wailings were melodious, 
the tears were sweet. 

Out of this tumult of emotion—like the cry of an eagle 
soaring in the eternal calm of the skies, far above the regions 
of cloud and tempest—there rose in his breast the triumphant, 
the intoxicating consciousness of the titanic strength of the 
man, whom no danger, no suffering, nothing on earth, can 
compel to deviate one_hair’s-breadth from his path. He knew 
that he would make a good and faithful soldier of the legion 
which fought for the cause of their country. Because this is 
what gives one man power over another’s heart; this is what 
imparts the spell of contagion to his zeal; this is what infuses 
into a word—a mere vibration of the air—the force to overturn 
and remould the human soul. 

The grove through which he had passed lay far behind, and 
he had been walking for some time upon an open road. In 
his occasional rambles he had never chanced upon that side of 
the town. A cornfield attracted his attention. It was a mere 
patch, a few score yards square, so that on the vast green turf 
it looked like a lady’s pocket-handkerchief on the carpet of a 
drawing-room. Yet it struck a foreigner, accustomed to see 
in Switzerland only mountains and vineyards, as something 
unexpected. 

Andrey had no difficulty in guessing that the road he 
followed would take him back to his lodgings. But he did not 





. 





IN SOLITUDE. 23 


feel disposed to return so soon. He wanted to sober down 
before reappearing among men, and he resolved to go to a little 
wood on the banks of the Arve commanding a view over the 
town from the southern side. He went thither, walking as 
rapidly as he could. He wanted, and expected, to be tired ; 
but his strong young muscles, hard and tough as steel, were 
equal to almost any strain. ‘To-night he seemed to be proof 
against fatigue ; his mental excitement doubled for a time his 
power of endurance. But the long walk had cooled his head. 
He was himself again as he climbed the height of La Batie, his 
feelings running quietly in their ordinary channels, like a river 
after an inundation. 

The moon had set. It lacked an hour or two of sunrise, 
but the approach of morning was already to be felt. The air 
was keener, the darkness was thinning, a cool wind blew from 
the mountains. On the western horizon huge clusters of heavy 
leaden-coloured clouds rapidly grew, mountain like, and stood 
in readiness like labourers arisen for the day’s toil. The stars 
went out in the duller sky. The Milky Way, fading at one end, 
looked like the broken arch of a gigantic bridge. There the 
whole east was suffused with a tender transparent light, verging 
between pale yellow, green, and pearly white of indescribable 
delicacy and purity. ‘The stars had shyly moved away to give 
place to the glorious apparition. One only would not dis- 
semble her beauty. ‘There she stood alone, wonderfully bright 
upon the enchanted ground, beaming and quivering like an 
eye that lightens and darkens under its trembling lashes. It 
was Venus, the poet’s star. But was she not his star as well? 
the star of his Russia, lying yonder towards the rising sun, and 
even now about to awaken from the night of centuries to the 
glory of her morning ! 

Andrey resolved to go straight home. It was high time to 
finish his ramble. He had enjoyed himself enodgh, and he 
must waste no more time. ‘To-morrow he would have to be 
up early. Lena would certainly call after her lesson. He 
had much to do in order to be ready for his journey without 
delay. 

He pulled his hat over his brow, and ran down the hill. 
The footpath zig-zagged among the thin bushes covering the 
dark declivity. After a short distance the woods disappeared, 
and looking from the edge of the slanting footpath Andrey 
saw the bare declivity. It was very steep, but the ground was 


24 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


clayey and soft. How delightful it would be to fling himself 
like a stone, bounding from one prominence to another, and 
then by one strong effort to stop short at the bottom! ‘There 
was a dare-devil spirit within him that urged him tothe feat. He 
took a few steps to the edge, and prepared himself for the first 
leap, which would haye to be small. But a sudden thought 
made him abandon this rather dangerous freak. Suppose he 
should dislocate his ankle? How then about his journey ? 
No, it would not do for him to be careless now. He stepped 
back, and ran carefully down the pathway. 

Crossing the Arve, he passed a few blocks of houses in a 
suburb, and emerged upon a spacious drill-ground, used for 
exercising recruits and for popular amusements at holiday-time. 
The real town began on the farther side. Sounds of the 
opening day were already heard here and there. In the 
middle of the street a big sorrel horse in harness, but without 
any cart, was walking by itself, as they often do in Switzerland ; 
no driver was visible anywhere. The animal’s step was so 
steady, and it looked so amusingly self-confident and knowing, 
that Andrey clapped it on the neck, and asked with a smile 
the best way to his home. 

The horse passed on without deviating an inch, with its 
air of a self-satisfied portly gentleman going to business. 

“Oh, well!” thought Andrey, resuming his way; “ you 
can’t expect a French horse to understand Russian. I ought 
to have addressed it in its native language.’ He felt sprightly 
and gay, as one does after a shower-bath, and was ready to 
amuse himself with any trifle. 

In twenty minutes he was at the opposite end of the town, 
ascending his own staircase. On approaching his door, he was 
surprised to see a line of light under it, and to find it unlocked. 
He thought he remembered having put out the lamp and 
locked up the room. ‘The explanation of the mystery was not 
far to seek. Upon entering he saw, by the uncertain light of 
the flickering lamp, the body of a man lying on his bed. ‘The 
lamp stood by him. Andrey raised it above the dark form. 

“Ah, Vaska!” he exclaimed, recognising first the rosy 
trousers of his friend,—a perfectly unique sample of the article 
which Vaska, otherwise Vasily Verbitzky, had picked up by 
mistake in some dark shop,—then his old overcoat, and finally 
his good-natured swarthy face, half concealed by the abundant 
auburn hair. 





IN SOLITUDE. 25 


Vasily had received Lena’s message late in the night, and 
had come to’inquire immediately about the letter. Finding 
Andrey absent, he had resolved to wait until he came back, 
and had fallen asleep. On the floor, just by the side of the 
bed, lay the book with which he had tried to beguile the time. 

Unwilling to awaken his friend, Andrey looked round to 
see how to find accommodation for both. There was nothing 
for it but to improvise a camp bed. He spread upon the floor 
a large sheet of an uncut newspaper. A winter overcoat would 
do very well for a mattress, and the Nihilist’s inevitable plaid 
for a blanket. But how about a pillow? Vasily had under 
his head both the small woollen things with which the landlady 
had supplied her lodger. Andrey very judiciously concluded 
that his guest could do very well with one of them. Slipping 
unceremoniously his hand under his friend’s head, he removed 
the other. Thus disturbed, Vasily muttered in his sleep some 
inarticulate sounds of selfish protest. But he seemed to admit 
-at once that he was in the wrong, for he grunted, without 
opening his eyes, something in a conciliatory tone, and when 
Andrey let his head drop again did not trouble any further. 

Andrey undressed, put his watch by his side that he might 
be sure to rise in time, and as his head touched the pillow 
almost instantaneously slept the sleep of the righteous. 





CHAPTER IIL. 


AT THE FRONTIER. 





smuggler and tavern-keeper at Ishky, a village upon the ~ 

Lithuanian frontier, was serving his customers with his 
usual alertness. His quick eye never failed to catch the 
moment when one of them was thirsty, and his practised hand 
never poured out one drop of beer more than was necessary to 
show the tumbler full, while leaving as much of it as possible 
unfilled. But his active mind was for the moment engaged 
elsewhere, following the rapid train then traversing the last miles 
between St Petersburg and the frontier. 

This morning he had received a telegram from David 
Stirn, a student of Jewish extraction, who had joined with the 
‘“‘Gois” (Christians) rebels against the authorities, and now 
“kept the frontier” for them. In a conventional language, 
agreed upon beforehand, David had announced his arrival by 
the evening train, with three companions, who had to be con- 
veyed across the frontier. 

Three persons at ten roubles a head is not a bad day’s 
work. But the fact is, Red Shmul reckoned upon getting 
something more than that for his trouble. It was conscription 
time, and special precautions were taken upon the frontier to 
prevent the young sons of Israel from escaping military service. 
An honest smuggler has a right to expect some extras in a 
time like that. But one must be cautious with such a screw 
as David. Not a bad man for all that, this Mr David. A 
sharp head, a genuine Jewish head, who would do honour to 
his race anywhere. He must be a general, or something of the 
sort, among the “Gois.” A sharp lad, who knows on which 
side his bread is buttered. He will get on, and an honest | 
smuggler has nothing to fear in dealing with him. He holds 
his tongue well, and, once his word is given, stands to his 
guns. But he haggles over a penny like a gypsy at a horse 
fair. 


Gnas SUSSER, called familiarly Red Shmul, chief 


AT THE FRONTIER. 27 


Red Shmul had many opportunities for studying his 
strange employer. Every three or four months the young man 
appeared upon the frontier, bringing with him batches of ‘‘Gois,” 
who wanted to go out of the country, or to come in. There 
were, moreover, books to be smuggled from abroad—a very 
advantageous trade, since books were paid for better than 
tobacco or silk. David had many connections all along the 
frontier, but Red Shmul was proud of being his favourite 
agent. ; 

What all this meant; who the strange people were with 
whom David was connected; what they wanted—Red Shmul 
could not make up his mind about. Prompted by his Jewish 
curiosity, he tried to read some of the revolutionary pamphlets 
he had to smuggle through. With his imperfect knowledge of 
Russian, he could not profit much by them, and did not care 
to investigate further. Since so clever a fellow as David took 
part in it, there must be some profit to be made out of it: 
how else could David pay so punctually and so well those 
whom he employed? As the importation of these books was 
prohibited, like that of various other goods, it must be some 
high-class smuggling business, for the use of gentlemen, of 
which he understood little. It did not concern him to know, 
however, provided he was paid well. He had his own business 
to mind. 

The whistling of the locomotive in the distance announced 
the arrival of the St Petersburg train. 

There they are, thought Shmul, whilst, with an obsequious 
smile, he was serving a police-officer with a measure of 
brandy. 

Shmul’s tavern stood rather far from the station. Most of. 
the passengers sought refreshment in nearer and better places, 
_but some stragglers reached him. Accordingly he had to make 
preparations to receive his guests. He wiped the two rustic oak 
tables which stood on either side of the room. ‘Then he 
inspected the small assortment of spirits ready for use, filling 
some of the glasses from the long row of bottles standing 
against the walls, and placed himself in waiting behind the 
counter. 

The tavern began to fill. Several peasant farmers of the 
village entered the room, loudly discussing the news of the 
market, from which they had just returned. ‘Two gendarmes, 
just relieved from guard at the station, came in for a drink, 





28 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 





and seated themselves in the place of honour. <A few ordinary 
customers came and went, but David did not appear. About 
an hour passed after the arrival of the train, and still he had — 
not come. Shmul was too ignorant of the dangers besetting a 
conspirator to feel:any apprehension. He concluded, there- 
‘fore, that David probably had been detained somewhere, and 
would come on the morrow, which was Friday, the eve of the 
Sabbath. As it was a day of very short work, the enterprising 
tavern-keeper began to consider how he could profit by 
David’s lack of punctuality, when turning to his right he saw 
David in person, sitting composedly at the table beside the 
gendarmes, paying as little attention to them as they paid to 
him. He was indeed the last person to be regarded with 
suspicion, this poorly-dressed young Jew, looking vacantly into 
space, with the patient air of a customer of modest means, in 
no hurry to leave an agreeable place and pleasant company. 

He was a short broad-shouldered man, of twenty-five or 
so, with an attractive regular face, of marked Jewish type, and 
large dark-brown eyes, kind and melancholy. 

_Shmul served him, when his turn came, with a mug of 
beer, and took no further notice of him. The young man 
paid for his drink, and after having sipped it leisurely went 
away as quietly as he had come. 

Once in the street, David turned the corner of the house 
and entered the kitchen by a back-door. In the thin light of 
the tallow candle he stumbled over something white and soft 
—a young lively kid, which jumped up from the floor and 
made its retreat between David’s feet, raising a cloud of dust. 
A hen roosting upon the plate-rack, frightened in its sleep, lost 
its equilibrium, and with much cackling of dismay sought 
refuge in the opposite corner of the room. 

The young man passed rapidly through the region where 
his presence caused so much disorder, and stepped into a dark 
corridor. Lighting a wax match, he ascended a flight of 
wooden stairs, and made his way to a small and rather dirty 
back room, where the Red Shmul was wont to transact his 
most important business. ; 

His host was already there. Having called his wife to take 
his place behind the counter, he hastened to meet his visitor 
as soon as he noticed his intention of withdrawing. 

‘How do you do, Master Shmul?” said David, in the 
Jewish jargon. ‘You didn’t expect.me so soon: ” 





AT THE FRONTIER. 29 


“IT did not expect to see you at all, Mr David,—to-day, I 
mean. I thought you would come to-morrow.” 

“JT had something to look after,” said the young man, 
seating bimself upon an easy-chair of doubtful colour and 
greasy appearance which stood against the wall. 

The lean and long Shmul perched himself upon a high 
wooden stool with one leg wanting. 

“‘ Are your friends with you?” he inquired. 

cc Ves.” 

“ All three of them ?” 

“All three. Two men and one lady. I left them at 
Foma’s. We want to be on the other side early to-morrow. 


_ You have arranged everything, I hope? | 


“Ves, it’s all right. They'll be on the other side at eight, 
and no mistake. But——” 

Shmul stopped hesitatingly, and rubbed the left side of his 
nose, whilst he looked inquiringly in David’s face. 

** What now ?” asked the other, looking up. 

“ Well, times are hard, you know, and the soldiers are very 
greedy. I had much, oh, so much, trouble to bring them 
round,” said Shmul, pathetically raising his eyes to the ceiling, 


_ “and I had to pay them more than——” 


“If so, you were wrong, Shmul, and you made a serious 
blunder,” said David carelessly. 

“Why? Is there any blunder in trying to serve you - 
promptly ?” 

“Certainly not. But you must keep to fixed prices. That’s 
the rule of the trade. ‘The more you give, the more they'll 

ask. Mind that, friend, and stick to your terms. ‘hat’s the 
rule of the trade.” 

“It’s all very well for you to say so, Mr David!” exclaimed 
the smuggler spitefully, warming to his réle of offended virtue. 
“But how could I help yielding? They are the masters, not I.” 

“A wise man must know how to make them give in,” said 
David, imperturbably. ‘‘ Suppose,” he added, with a spark of 
humour in his large eyes, ‘‘ you asked me to pay you more than 
is the rule. I don’t say you will, but suppose you did. Well, 
I should answer, that the fish goes where the water is deeper, 
and a buyer where the ware is cheaper. [Business is business. 
The frontier is long, and the soldiers many. . If a man will not 
stick to the fixed price, why should you stick to him? Isn’t it 
soP” 


30 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


David smiled good-humouredly, and began to fill his small 
wooden pipe. 

He knew of course from the first what Shmul was driving 
at, and he was firmly resolved to stand no nonsense. Parsi- 
mony in spending party-money was in his eyes the sacred duty 
of a revolutionist. But it was not his habit to deal with people 
harshly so long as he could help it. 

** And how is your family? I forgot to ask you,” he went 
on. ‘All well, I hope?” 

‘Quite well, thank you,” answered Shmul sulkily, meditat- 
ing a more resolute attack. He did not mean to lose a good 
opportunity. 

“Nothing new in the village?” went on David, smoking 
his pipe unconcernedly. 

“There is something new,” answered the smuggler tartly, 
and gave his visitor some fragments of news showing the 
serious state of affairs on the frontier. 

“Have you heard that Itzik is back?” asked David, 
emitting a long puff of smoke. 

Shmul’s heart fell. Itzik or Isaak Perlenglanz was a very 
shrewd smuggler of good repute in the brotherhood. Occa- 
sionally David did some business with Itzik, and Shmul always 
suspected the latter was anxious to oust him. 

“Ts heP” rejoined the smuggler, faintly. “I did not 
know that.” 

He cast an inquisitive glance at his neighbour. But David 
looked quite unconcerned. 

“Foma told me. That’s all I know,” he said. 

‘‘There’s no hope,” thought Shmul; ‘he is well informed, 
and knows his game.” 

“Have your people much luggage?” asked Shmul in a 
matter of course tone, as if there was never any shadow of 
disagreement between them. 

“A few bundles. Your boy can fetch it all.” 

“Then Pll send him to-morrow to Foma’s. The money 
on the other side?” 

“Yes. But mind, you are not to take anything from them. 
Only a small note on a scrap of paper to tell me that they are 
safe.” 

Shmul nodded in melancholy silence. This was another of 
his grudges against the young man. David was very severe, 
and even cruel about this. Shmul knew it only too well. 


” 





AT THE FRONTIER. 31 


The injured smuggler shook out the long curls over his 
ears, and inquired hurriedly how the weather was in St 
Petersburg, to change the drift of his unpleasant thoughts. 

But his ill-humour changed to cheerful hopefulness, when 
David asked whether he would be at his post in a month’s 
time. 

“T’m going to the other side,” the young man explained, 
“and I shall have many things to pass in.” 

Shmul smacked his lips. This was compensation for the 
failure of his present expectations. 

He asked no questions. David did not like it, and would 
let nobody know more than he chose to tell. 

**You’ll not forget me, I hope,” said Shmul. 

“No, I'll not. Only you must be on the spot. I'll write 
to you, to give you time to get there.” 

Then they entered upon a discussion of way-bills, “ car- 
riage,” and so forth, and this time Shmul made no further 
show of objection. They parted on very friendly terms, the 
smuggler divided between esthetic admiration of the other’s 
ability and disappointment at the frustration of his own design. 

‘A smart fellow, there’s no gainsaying that,” he soliloquised 
as he bolted the doors and windows of the tavern. ‘‘ Only our 
father Jacob could get over him. Still he might be a little 
easier with one of his own people, burdened with a large family, 
who finds it hard to turn an honest penny.” 

And he recalled with sorrow the golden times of six or seven 
years before, when the fare across the frontier was as much as 
twenty-five and even fifty roubles per head. Some fools had 
paid as highas a hundred. David had reduced it to a paltry 
ten, with no extras upon any pretext whatever. It was true 
enough that since David had taken things in his hands, ten 
times as many “Gois” were passing in and out of Russia. 
This was some consolation. But the good man could not help 
reflecting how much nicer it would be if the traffic was as brisk 
as now, and the fares as high as they used to be. He fell into 
such a dream of figures, that his heart first leaped for joy and 
then sank into his boots with regret. 

Meanwhile David had got to Foma’s house, where his com- 
pany had put up for the night. The master opened to him in 
person, and David inquired for his friends. All was well. 
They had supped as he had ordered, and were now gone to bed. 
The men had the front room, and Foma’s daughter, Marina, 


32 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


had taken in the lady upstairs. David thanked him, and 
rejoined his friends. On occasions of this sort he always 


stopped at Foma’s, though nothing better than a trestle-bed — 


was to be had there. Foma was the local sofsky,—a sort of 
rural policeman,—and his cabin had the advantage of perfect 
security. 

Once inside the room, David examined everything with the 
attention of an officer on duty. The window-shutters were 
closed to prevent the passers-by from seeing the strangers within. 
All the luggage, his own linen sack included, was piled in a 
corner. His companions, worn out with their long journey, 
were stretched in sleep on the benches round the walls. Each 
had a straw pillow and such bedclothes as his host could im- 
provise. Everything was all right. A similar bed was ready 
for himself ; but though he was tired, he was hungry as well, 
and he wanted to contrive some supper. So he cut a slice of 
bread from the loaf on the table, took from his sack a piece of 
cheese, carefully wrapped up in paper, and victualled himself 
from his own supplies, like an old campaigner. 

He was the first a-foot, as the morning sunshine slipped 
through the chinks of the shutters. He rapidly completed his 
toilet, and opened the shutters. His companions, roused by his 
merry voice, were soon astir with him. 

Ostrogorsky, the elder, was a middle-aged man, small and 
bent, with the look ‘of a withered and sickly scholar. Exiled 
years ago for some trifling offence in an out-of-the-way town 
upon the Volga, he had escaped from his place of punishment, 
and was going to settle permanently in foreign parts. 

His companion, Sazepin, a stalwart young man of twenty- 
three, once a subaltern in a line’ regiment, was a fellow-con- 
spirator of David’s, and was so seriously compromised that he 
had been sent abroad by the League “ for change of air.” 

“Make haste, boys,” said David. ‘You must do great 
things to-day, and you have no time to lose. I'll go and 
arrange breakfast.” 

In the courtyard he was rejoined by the third of his com- 
pany, Annie Vulitch, a girl of nineteen, implicated as a “‘ sym- 
pathiser” in some university disturbances of a non-political 
‘character. As a foreign passport was refused her by the police, 
David readily consented to include her in his next batch. He 
was always willing to help over the frontier any one in need 
of it. 


eee Soe ee) ee 





AT THE FRONTIER. 33 





Annie was looking after the samovar which Foma had 
kindled, and David was free to busy himself about breakfast. 
It was as luxurious as Foma’s larder could afford. This was a 
point of honour with David. Careless of his own comfort, he 
had for those under his care a solicitude that at times was very 
amusing. He not only watched over their safety, but took 
care that they should be well fed and provided for in all 
respects. 

The dawn was past, and the first red sunbeams were shining 
through the tiny rough windows of the house, lighting up the 
room and the faces of the travellers. 

- David himself made tea. He always kept a good store in 
his travelling-sack, because it was expensive, and bad when 
bought at retail shops. ‘The frugal meal was a lively one. All 
were in high. spirits, and as merry as people are who are excited 
by curiosity and the expectation of danger to be met in common. 
They could not help thinking that crossing the frontier of the 
Tzar’s dominions must somehow be a serious business. David 
assured them that it was the simplest affair in the world. 
Hundreds of people crossed the frontier secretly, simply to save 
the cost of a passport. Political offenders, provided there was 
nothing particular in their external appearance, could get over 
as easily as anybody else. | 

** All the same, a good many of them have been arrested at 
the frontier,” said Annie Vulitch, with a blush. 

She felt a little nervous, for she had never been in a scrape 
before. But she was very proud, and she was afraid her remark 
might be mistaken for a sign of fear. 

“Yes, they have!” said David, kindling with indignation. 
* And by whose fault but theirown? A fool can drown himself 
even in a pail of water by holding his head into it.” 

Like most men of sanguine temperament, David was prone 
to exaggeration. To believe him, the frontier is the best place 
in the world for walking about in. He was really angry with 
these sluggards for bringing the frontier into disrepute, and 
feeding the public with foolish notions as to its perils. 

Their talk about the incidents of frontier life was interrupted 
by Ostrogorsky, who was the first to remark that their smuggler 
was late. ‘This was true, and he had not appeared at ten 
o'clock. David had been down to the tavern, but Shmul was 
out. Something had gone wrong. Ostrogorsky, an irascible 
man, began to lose patience. 
¢ 


ee EEE! ee ne ee, eee a eee 





34 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“Shall we have to spend another night here?” he asked 
with a wry smile. 

David calmly explained that there was no danger of that. 
If the smuggler was not on the ground by eleven, he would go 
and contrive the business in another way. 

Sazepin alone neither grumbled nor asked questions. He 
felt for David the confidence of a soldier in his commander, 
and it was not in his nature to doubt about anything. 

When Shmul appeared in the doorway, David met him with 
a volley of reproaches. ‘The smuggler excused himself: it was 
no fault of his, but a mere accident. The guard with whom 
he had made his arrangements had not been appointed for 
morning duty as he expected, and would not be at hand until 
the evening. 

This was unpleasant. It was Friday. Ina few hours the 
sacred Sabbath eve would begin, and the heaviest guerdon 
will not induce a smuggler of the Mosaic persuasion to brea 
the Sabbath by lifting a finger. : 

A flash of anger shone in David’s eyes. 

“Don’t be cross, Mr David,” said the smuggler, “ you'll 
not have to wait until the Sabbath is over. I have got two 
passports for the gentlemen, and my daughter will meet us on 
the way to the ferry, and give hers to the lady. We can cross 
at once if you like.” 

David explained in Russian what had occurred, and gave 
the two men their papers. ‘They were not regular foreign 
passports, but a sort of certificate which is given to the people 
of the frontiers, who have business on both sides of the line, 
and cross and recross it continually. 

Each of them opened his passport to learn the name to 
which he would have to answer in case of emergency. Upon 
Sazepin this study produced a very startling effect. 

“Why! what rubbish have you brought me here?” he 
shouted to the smuggler; ‘‘ this is a woman’s!” 

“So it is,” said the smuggler; “and wheré is the harm in 
it?” 

Interested and amazed, Sazepin’s two companions ap- . 
proached to ascertain the truth. 

There could be no doubt of it. On the passport, in large 
letters, and in yellowish ink, there was written, ‘Sarah Halper, 
widow of Solomon Halper, tradesman, forty years old.” 

They all burst into a laugh, in which Sazepin joined. 





AT THE FRONTIER. 35 


During his revolutionary career he had used many passports 
and played many parts, but he was for the first time a widow of 
forty, and objected to the experiment. 

“You must change it,” he said to the smuggler, “I can’t 
pass for that widow.” 

Shmul raised his hands, as a cherub might his wings, and 
blinked. 

“Why not? With God’s help you will.” 

Sazepin, who had no such belief in Providence, insisted ; 
but David, albeit amused at his friend’s annoyance, inter- 
fered. 

“It doesn’t matter at all,” he said, ‘‘ you'll see that for 
yourself.” 

Sazepin shrugged his shoulders. How he could be taken 
for a widow of forty was past his comprehension; but as 
David was in the secret, he supposed it’ was all right. 

The travellers prepared for their departure. They had to 
go empty-handed, for it is the rule on the frontier that men 
and goods should be smuggled separately; stuff that is sale- 
able pays a much higher duty than mere human beings, who 
have no market value. Ostrogorsky, who had a small hand- 
bag with a bundle of manuscripts, was not even allowed to 
carry that. David took charge of everything. He was to 
bring it by another route, and he promised to rejoin them 
before long on the other side. 

At the gate they met one of Shmul’s offspring, who delivered 
his sister’s passport to Vulitch. 

** Now, it’s all right,” said David. They shook hands 
cordially, and parted. Sazepin and the smuggler led the way. 
The two others followed at some distance, so as not to attract 
attention. In twenty minutes they were in sight of a dirty 
wretched brook, such as a “hen may ford in dry weather,” as 
the Russians have it. On both sides of it expanded a flat and 
dreary plain, the yellow clay showing through the fresh grass. 
There were groups of men and women on either shore. A flat- 
bottomed raft, like a large old slipper, was floating on the 
yellow water. A grey-haired, red-faced, stern-looking sergeant 
of police, his sword by his side, stood on duty. 

As soon as the raft had touched the shore, and was emptied, 
our travellers, on a sign from their guide, jumped into it, and 
were followed by a dozen men and women, who crowded it so 
as almost to push each other overboard. 


36 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“Enough !” interposed the police officer, pushing back the 
crowd. 

And addressing those who were in the craft, he said in a 
voice of command, “‘ Your passports !” 

For this was the frontier. The left hand of the dirty brook 
was Russia, the right Germany. 

The passports were duly produced, and handed in a bundle 
to the pillar of law and order. His finger in the air, he 
hastily counted the number of heads and then the number of 
documents. As the two corresponded, he handed the pass- 
ports back to the nearest passenger, and shouted, “ All right!” 
With that the ferryman, who had neither rudder to steer nor 
pole to push with, gave Russia a kick, and the next instant the 
raft knocked up against Germany. The passengers leapt 
ashore. All was over. They were in Europe, out of the Tzar’s 
power. | 

‘“¢ How very simple it is!” exclaimed Vulitch, with a smile. 
They felt a sense of relief, and they, talking loudly, proceeded 
to the village, where they had to wait for David. 

Had they been less absorbed in themselves they would 
have remarked a decently clad young man, with dark eyes and 
pale face, who, as he passed along the street, was struck by the 
agreeable and unwonted sounds of pure Russian speech. 

It was Andrey, who had arrived at the place appointed in 
George’s letter full five days before. In hourly expectation 
of the arrival of David, who was to meet him there, he was 
perishing of enue. 

He guessed at once that the three were Nihilists of David’s 
band. He was tempted to address them, but checked himself. 
They might be strangers after all. Caution never does harm. 
If they were friends of David, it would not be long ere David 
himself appeared. 











CHAPTER IV. 
A BUSY DAY. 


ETURNING to his inn, Andrey found the waiter, and 
R did his best with his poor German to explain that in 
the event of visitors he would be at home all day. 

His window looked upon a large green square, with several 
thoroughfares opening into it. He sat there watching the 
traffic, and about eleven o’clock his keen eyes caught sight of 
David’s squat figure, who was advancing rapidly, swinging his 
arms outside the thick greatcoat he wore all the year round. 

Andrey rushed downstairs. ‘The two friends met in the 
hall, and embraced each other in true Russian fashion. 

“Have you abused me much, old boy, for keeping you 
waiting ?” asked David, tapping Andrey upon the shoulder. 

“T did abuse you, but not very much. I was afraid some- 
thing had happened you.” 

“What nonsense! What can happen to me? I was run- 
ning about and making up a little batch to convey across the 
frontier. ‘Two birds with one stone, as usual. It is cheaper 
and quicker.” 

**1’m sure I saw your party at the ferry an hour ago.” 

“Yes, those were my lot. Sazepin is among them, you 
know. You must certainly see him.” 

They were by this time alone in Andrey’s rooms. David 
took off his overcoat, threw it upon the long horse-hair chair, 
and sat down. 

“Now you must tell me all your news,” said Andrey, 
standing opposite him. ‘ How is George and all the others ? 
What about Boris? Have you heard from Zina?” 

“We have had a letter from Zina. The outlook seems 
rather bad, as far as we could gather from her few hints. She 
must soon be back in St Petersburg, and will tell you more.” 

“Are we not going to St Petersburg together?” 


38 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“No,” said David; “I am off to Switzerland, and shall 
have to stay there for some time. Have you heard that the 
Lquilibrides want to start a clandestine paper of their own in 
St Petersburg ?” 

“The Lguilibrides {” exclaimed Andrey. ‘Is it possible?” 

The Lgutlibrides were a secret society, so nicknamed by 
their rivals for their moderation and want of backbone. There 
was no love lost between them and the party of the Land and 
Liberty League to which David and Andrey belonged. 

“They seem to be in earnest this time,” answered David. 
“When they heard I was going to Switzerland, they gave me 
money to buy type for them.” 

“That looks promising,” said Andrey. “I'll have a better 
opinion of them henceforth.” . 

“1 don’t think I will,” said David. ‘We shall see what use 
they make of the type. For my part, I am an unbeliever.” 

He looked round for a match to light his pipe. Andrey 
gave him a cigar. 

“Then why do you take the trouble to execute their com- 
missions ?” he asked. 

“‘’That’s my business,” replied David. ‘I am the scavenger 
of the revolution, and my duty is to keep the roads clear of 
all obstacles, and free to everybody who wants to walk in 
‘them. Whether the Lguilibrides succeed or not, does not 
concern me in the least. And then,” he added, “ it won’t be 
much trouble ; it will give me afew days more with my friends 
in Switzerland, that’s all.” 

“I’m glad for their sake at all events. Have you written 
of your coming?” 

“No, I never do. It’s better to drop in unexpectedly. 
How are they? You have told me nothing about them.” 

*“'There’s nothing to tell. The life is the same, as dull as 
ever,” answered Andrey. 

David slapped his knee with his hand impatiently. 

“What a feckless lot these Nihilists are!” he exclaimed. 
“To be living in a free country at the time of a great social 
movement, and to feel like fishes out of water. Is the whole 
world confined for you to Russia?” 

With his Jewish cosmopolitanism he had often to debate 
such points with his Russian friends. 

“You are quite right to blame us,” Andrey replied, with 
that readiness of self-condemnation which so often conceals 











A BUSY DAY. 39 


deep-seated satisfaction with the fault admitted. ‘‘ We are the 
least cosmopolitan of nations, though some people say the 
contrary. You are the only man I know who deserves to be 
called a citizen of the world.” 

“ That is flattering, but not very pleasant,” said David. 

Andrey did not follow the argument, asking what was exactly 
the feeling of the St Petersburg friends about Boris. He took 
the matter much to heart. Boris was his dearest friend, the 
man of all the world who, after George, was nearest to him. 

* Nothing can be settled till Zina is back,” said David. 
“But I am afraid we can do nothing for him just now.” 

“Nothing! Why?” Andrey exclaimed. 

** We cannot afford it,” David replied, with a sigh. ‘We 
are now in somewhat of a fix. You will see for yourself when 
you get there.” 

He went on, giying details of the losses and financial diffi- 
culties of their League. 

Andrey listened, walking up and down with bowed head. 
It was worse than he had expected. But the idea that hope 
must be abandoned, aroused in him a:passion of wrath which 
made it impossible for him to submit. His own eventual 
capture he was accustomed to contemplate with a good deal of 
equanimity. That was the fortune of war, and he was prepared 
for it. But to allow “those scoundrels” (as he termed the 
whole official body) to slaughter one’s friends without a shot 
in their defence, was a humiliation he could not endure. 

“What nonsense, our people talking about want of 
strength !” he exclaimed, stopping short before David. ‘‘ Our 
strength lies round us. If we cannot find recruits, it proves that 
we are not worth much ourselves !” 

“You cannot jump higher than your head,” replied 
David. ‘‘We might spare a couple of men to organise the 
business ; but what can they do if we have no money ?” 

“What does it matter?” Andrey said. ‘Nothing is so 
likely to replenish our coffers, and to stir men’s minds, as 
getting up some lively business.” 

“Sometimes,” said David. ‘Speak to Zina and the rest 
about it. We all want something done.” 

He rose to take his leave. 

“T must go to my party,” he said. “ By-the-by, how shall 
we arrange your meeting with Sazepin? Will you go and see 
him, or should he come to you?” 


eee ee eee a! ee se eS ae ee aN. _— 
. ‘ . 7 _ ov — : 3 ‘ 
. . ; 


40 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


Andrey asked who the other people were, and then pro- 
posed to go straight to their inn. He was glad to have a talk 
with the other two as well. 

When David entered the room where his charges were. 
assembled, he was greeted with a boisterous ovation. 

Andrey was introduced to all three under an assumed 
name, the first that David found on his ready tongue. As 
strangers to the League, Ostrogorsky and Vulitch were not to 
be initiated into the secret of this return to Russia, and Sazepin 
had no difficulty in guessing who the new man was. 

The party fell into two groups. Andrey and Sazepin 
remained seated by the table, whilst David was taken by the 
two others to the window at the opposite end of the room. 
Both Ostrogorsky and the girl were still full of wonder at the 
simplicity of their escape. 

“One almost wants it to be more exciting,” said Annie, and 
Ostrogorsky remarked that he expected it would have been so. 

He was in a talkative mood, and told how he was assured, 
on good authority, that people were carried across the frontier 
in sacks upon men’s shoulders, in the dead of night ; that they 
had often to spend days in close confinement, in lumber-rooms, 
- before the smugglers could find a good opportunity. David 
laughed, and said that he doubted the sacks, but that for the 
rest his informants were probably right. In old time, when ~ 
the smugglers had things all their own way, they often played 
some such farce on purpose to throw dust in their clients’ 
eyes, and to show that the big sums paid to them were well 
earned. 

Andrey in the meantime was quietly talking with Sazepin, 
whom he asked of various things he had seen, and about the 
towns where he had lived. They were left alone, with that 
freedom which is usual in all the social gatherings of the 
Nihilists, until Sazepin happened to express an opinion upon _ 
a particular body of conspirators whom he had known in a pro- 
vincial town. 

“A gang of babblers,—wavering between politics and 
socialism,” he said, with his usual directness. ‘‘ They try to 
sit upon two stools, and it won’t do for these times.” 

This remark caught the ear of Ostrogorsky, who was a 
passionate debater. Slowly the little man approached the two, 
his hands behind his back, his heavy nose seeming to pull 
down his emaciated face. There had been some fencing | 








A BUSY DAY. 41 


between him and Sazepin on the journey, but he thirsted for 
more. With a slight sarcastic smile on his thin lips, he begged 
permission to inquire what, according to Sazepin, would not 
do for these times ; whether it was sitting upon two stools, or 
sticking to socialism ?P 

Sazepin retorted that he meant what he meant, and that all 
who call themselves revolutionists and shirk the duty of taking 
part in the real work of revolution, are certainly babblers, or 
worse ! 

With this Ostrogorsky agreed, but he had his own definition 
of the real work. The discussion attracted Vulitch, and she 
moved to the end of the sofa nearer to the disputants. She 
listened ; then she struck in, and the conversation became 
general. David alone remained in his place, sitting upon the 
window-sill and dangling his feet lazily. 

Once started the debate waxed warm and noisy. And no 
wonder,—for it soon became manifest that of the five persons 
present, all revolutionists and socialists, each one had some 
points of disagreement with all the others, and none was 
disposed to give way. Sazepin was an avowed terrorist, 
remarkable for the thoroughness and simplicity of his views 
upon all questions of theory and practice, and for a happy 
absence of-any doubt or uncertainty. Annie Vulitch, too, was 
a terrorist,—in theory of course,—though she did not go so far 
as Sazepin, with whom, moreover, she disagreed completely 
as to the question of socialist propaganda among the working- 
classes. Ostrogorsky and David both leaned to the evolution- 
ary socialism. But these two were strongly divided upon 
the question of a socialistic state in the future, and upon 
_ political action in the present. As to Andrey, he could not 
fully agree with any of the four. But having been so long out 
of the current of revolutionary thought, he seemed to want 
system, and to be a trifle undecided. He faced now this 
opponent, now that; and the next moment both opponents 
and allies turned on him fiercely, shouting in both his ears 
their different arguments to prove his inconsistency. Sazepin 
was greatly annoyed by Andrey’s conduct. A man with such 
antecedents ought to have sounder principles, and side at once 
with the good cause without idle circumlocution. 

His back to the empty grate, his strong right arm just 
- leaning upon the mantelpiece, Sazepin stood his ground firmly. 
He had to defend himself against all the others, who sought to 





42 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 





impress upon him the fact that simple terrorism is decidedly 
too narrow a creed for a socialist. 

“Then, I tell you,” he roared, towering over them, “ I am 
not a socialist !” 

He lingered upon every word to give it greater emphasis. 

“There you are!” exclaimed Ostrogorsky in a triumphant 
falsetto ; ‘consequently you are a Jourgeots, an upholder of the _ 
oppression of the working-classes by the capitalists. Quod erat - 
demonstrandum |” 

He turned from his opponent, and began pacing up and 
down, humming a tune to express that there is nothing more 
to say about it. ! 

“No, I am not!” Sazepin shouted after him, in nowise 
disconcerted. ‘‘But socialism is not for my time. That’s what 
I say. We have to fight the autocracy, and to win political 
freedom for Russia. That’s all. As to socialism, I don’t care 
a fig for it!” 

, ‘“‘T beg your pardon, Sazepin,” interposed Andrey, “ that’s 
rather foolish. All our moral strength consists in the fact that 
we are socialists. Strike that away, and our strength is gone.” 

* And by what right,” exclaimed Vulitch, jumping up from 
her seat, ‘‘ will you ask the working-men to join you if you are 
not socialists ?” 

“Oh, well!” drawled Sazepin, waving his hand con- 
temptuously. ‘‘ That’s all metaphysics.” 

Metaphysics to him meant anything that was not worth a 
moment’s consideration. 

“The issue before us,” he proceeded, dominating them all 
with his loud voice, ‘is the overthrow of political despotism, 
and that’s necessary for all. All who love Russia must join 
hands with us, and those who will not are traitors to the cause 
of the people!” And he looked straight at Ostrogorsky, lest he 
should mistake to whom the words referred. 

‘* What have the people to gain from the middle-class con- 
stitution you are fighting for ?” the undaunted little man shouted 
at the top of his voice, thrusting his little body at his tall 
opponent with the air of a bantam attacking a big mastiff. 
“You have forgotten all about the people, because you are a 
middle-class man yourself. That’s what you are.” 

“Look here, friends,” said David, pointing to the street 
below, “‘here’s a fire-engine. Don’t get so excited, or the 
innkeeper will have the hose turned on you.” 


? 


A BUSY DAY. 43 


Nobody paid him the least attention. His gibe was lost 
upon the disputants, and he relapsed into silence. 

The debate went on in the same fashion, but as the dis- 
putants grew tired they grew calmer. During the discussion 
all of them had changed their places several times. Now 
Sazepin was standing near the table, with Ostrogorsky holding 
him by the button of the coat. 

“Let me say a few words to convince you, Sazepin,” he 
said in a sweet persuasive tone. ‘‘The history of Europe 
teaches us that all the great revolutions . . . .”—and he went 
on developing his thesis at length. 

Sazepin listened, his figure bolt upright, his head a little 
bent, his brow slightly contracted; judging from his face, it 
seemed probable that the seed of Ostrogorsky’s wisdom was 
falling in stony places. 

' “ Friends,” David interrupted, looking at his watch, ‘‘ your 
train starts in less than two hours. It’s time to think about 
our hodily wants; let’s have some dinner. That’s a point 
-upon which you all agree, I hope.” 

He went downstairs to give instructions, while Ostrogorsky 
walked out-to get change for a Russian note. 

Andrey was glad of the opportunity to explain his views, 
which he thought had only to-be understood to be universally 
accepted. For in the “ programme” he had carefully elaborated 
before starting, there was room for everything and everybody. 
Sazepin listened attentively, 

That will never work !” he exclaimed, without a moment’s 
hesitation, shaking his head energetically. 

“Why not?” asked Andrey. 

Sazepin did not answer at once. He was collecting his 
thoughts, and seeking words in which to put them clearly. His 
controversial ardour had subsided. Andrey was a friend, and 
meant business. He wanted to go to the root of the matter, 
not merely to thrust and parry. ‘Then his face flushed with 
sudden anger. 

“You want us to go hand-in-hand with the liberals,” he 
said, looking sternly upon Andrey. ‘‘ But suppose they want 
us to keep quiet? Should we? No, by God! We will stab 
and shoot and blow up, and let all cowards go to the devil!” 

He thumped the table with his fist so as almost to break it. 

“No, Andrey,” he added more calmly, ‘‘ your eclecticism 
won't do.” 





44 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 





“What do you say to it?” Andrey asked the girl. 

“T think that we must reckon upon ourselves, and go our 
own way. ‘Those who like our aims will follow,” she answered, 
with a flush of excitement upon her face. 

There was nothing in this reply which one might not have 
heard from hundreds of people. Yet the tone of earnestness, 
far deeper than mere sincerity, struck Andrey’s experienced ear. 
Up to this moment he had been engrossed in the pleasure’ of 
this first meeting with genuine Russians. He had scarcely 
observed the shy girl who had taken little part in the discussion. 
Now that the instincts of the fisher of men were awakened, he 
looked upon her with closer attention. Her fresh young face 
was intelligent and earnest, with glistening chestnut eyes, which 
she kept mostly. fixed on the ground. Her small yet energetic 
figure was clad in the plain black dress common to the hard- 
working Nihilist sisterhood. 

At dinner he asked her about her work and her plans, and 
found that she was a member of a students’ club secretly organ- 
ised for self-education. He had no difficulty in guessing that 
she had been its leading spirit. Her present intention was to 
_ finish her studies somewhere in Switzerland. Andrey advised 
her to try Geneva, where she would readily find all she wanted ; 
and he gave her a note of introduction to Lena. 

The start was at four o’clock.. David gave his friends all 
necessary information, and was helpful in many ways. But 
his motherly solicitude had vanished. They were no longer 
his peculiar charges, and his whole attention and tenderness 
were transferred to Andrey. ‘The pair proceeded to the latter’s 
inn, and it was agreed that they should lodge together. They 
had to spend a whole Saturday in the town, and David would 
send word to Shmul to be ready for Sunday morning. ; 

‘Not earlier?” inquired Andrey. 

‘No; that’s if we have to arrange the matter with my 
Jews,” David explained. ‘But there is a man on this side 
whom I can see if you like.” 

Andrey said he would like; and David soon returned with 
the good news that one Schmidt (a smuggler of German ex- 
traction) was in the town, and if they pleased would see them 
over the frontier that very night. Andrey jumped at the idea 
at once, for he was impatient to get to St Petersburg. David too 
was in a hurry, as he hada lot of work on hand. Soa message 
was sent to Schmidt, and in due time the smuggler appeared. 


A BUSY DAY. 45 


He was a big heavy man, dressed like a farmer, with 
a good-natured honest German face. He greeted Andrey 
politely, and made a few remarks about the weather. Then 
he went straight to the point and told them that all was 
ready. : 

Unfortunately it appeared the young Herr had too much 
luggage. A revolutionist coming into the country must be 
well dressed, and the reverse of empty-handed, as he may be 
when he is leaving it. David objected to any delay, lest the 
young Herr should miss his train. 

A brief and rapid discussion ensued between him and 
Schmidt in German, which Andrey was unable to follow. He 
understood, however, that it ended to their mutual satisfaction. 
The German-threw Andrey’s bag over his broad shoulder with 
one hand, and they went straight to his house. 

It was a little two-storeyed cottage, with a flourishing front 
garden. Frau Schmidt, a portly middle-aged lady, in a white 
cap, was introduced, and offered refreshment. 

“Where is Hans?” asked Schmidt. 

Hans had just returned from his evening class, and was 
changing his dress. 

He came downstairs at his father’s call,—an apple-faced, 
white-headed boy of twelve, in loose trousers and short tight 
jacket, whose seams were nearly bursting under the pressure of 
his growing limbs. 

“Take your hat and show these gentlemen to the grey 
stone which is behind the birch hill yonder. Do you under- 
stand ?” 

“Yes, father.” 

“And be quick,” added Schmidt, as the boy obeyed his 
orders. 

“Ves, father.” 

Schmidt bid his guests ‘‘ Godspeed,” accompanying them 
politely to the gate of the cottage, and repeating his admoni- 
tion to his son and heir. 

Hans was in no need of it. He was a serious boy, who 
understood his business, and promised to do honour to the 
profession followed by the long line of his forefathers. Without 
useless talk he took the lead of the small company, with an 
air of dignity and self-importance upon his round face. 

The two friends followed him at a certain distance. They 
went out of the village and a little way along the rivulet 


ee a ne in are ee eee any © eee meee Gee ee ee aes 
* =, i 4 - 


46 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 





which David’s friends had crossed that afternoon. Then the 
stream turned off to the right, and their way lay across an 
open moorland, without any trace of a path. The boy, how- 
ever, showed no hesitation, and went along with regular steps, 
slightly balancing his short thick hands, and never turning his — 
head. 

The sun had set, and the purple reflection of the skies 
imparted some beauty even to the dreary landscape of the 
Prussian lowlands. A boundless plain extended in all direc- 
tions, but Andrey could already discern at a distance the 
miserable thatched hut of the Russian villages, which are so 
striking a contrast to the spacious cottages, with their roofs of - 
red tiles, on the German side. ‘There could be no doubt of it. — 
Beyond these bushes lay Russia, the melancholy land after 
which his heart was yearning. In a few minutes he would 
tread this tear-sown soil, for whose sake he was so eager to 
place his life in jeopardy. 

“J am so sorry, dear David,” he said to his companion, 
“that we have had so little time together. ‘There are so many 
things I should like to talk over with you.” 

“In a month or thereabout I shall be back in St Peters- 
burg. You will not be leaving before then, I hope?” 

“Oh, no! I’ll hardly have time to know what I’m about. 
Much has changed there, I expect. But tell me, do many of 
our people hold the same views as Sazepin?” 

‘“No. You need not be afraid. He is one of the few 
oddities. The rest have another craze, and George is their 
prophet. You have read his things of course ?” 

“Ves, I did.” 

‘And do you like them ?” 

“Well, I rather do. Why not?” 

“T thought so. For my part, if I had to choose, I should 
have preferred Sazepin.” 

“You will not go very far with him though,” said Andrey. 

“Yes. He does not see beyond his day’s work, still he is 
the man of the day, and his is the work we are all doing. 
You know with him what you have and what you have not. 
But you Russians hate to deal with positive things that you 
can touch with your fingers; you must always have some 
fantastical nonsense to muddle your heads with. It runs in 
your blood, I think.” 

“Don’t be so harsh upon us,” said Andrey, smiling at his 


A BUSY DAY. 47 


friend’s sally. ‘If George’s belief in Russia and in our 
peasants’ superior virtues is pushed too far, what harm is there? 
Are you not repeating the samethingsabout your beloved German 
working-men in general, and those of Berlin in particular ?” 

““That’s quite another thing,” said David. ‘This isn’t a 
belief, but a prognostication of the future, based upon the solid 
ground of existing facts.” 

“The same sauce, my dear fellow, but somewhat thinner,” 
said Andrey. ‘“ You cannot help idealising what you are strongly 
attached to. With all your philosophy, you are not a bit wiser 
than we are; only your preferences are placed elsewhere. 
We are strongly attached to our people, you are not.” 

David did not answer for a long while. Andrey’s words 
had touched a very sore point in his heart. 

“No, Iam not attached to your people,” he said at last, 
with a slow sad voice. ‘Why should I be? We Jews, we 
love our race, which is all we have on the earth. I love it 
deeply and warmly. Why should I love your peasants,.who 
hate and illtreat my people with blind barbarity? who 
to-morrow will perhaps loot the house of my father, an 
honourable working-man, and brutally assault him, as they 
have done to thousands of other poor hard-working Jews? I 
can pity your peasants for their sufferings, as I would pity 
some Abyssinian or Malay slave, or any ill-used living creature; 
but my heart. will never beat for them, and I cannot share 
your vain dreams and foolish admiration for them. As to 
so-called society, the upper classes, why! what but contempt 
can one feel for such wholesale cowards? No, there is 
nothing in your Russia worth caring for. But I knew the 
Nihilists, and I loved them even more than my own race. I 
- joined and fraternised with them, and that is the only tie 
which binds me to your country. As soon as we have done 
with your Tzar’s despotism, I shall expatriate myself for ever, 
and settle somewhere in Germany.” 

“But will you—” said Andrey hesitatingly, “ will you find 
anything better there? Have you forgotten the brutality of the 
German mob? and was it only the mob?” 

“Yes,” answered David, with a look of deep sadness in his 
large and beautiful eyes; ‘‘ we Jews, we are outcasts among the 
nations. Still, German working people are educated, and are 
in the way towards better feelings, and Germany is the only 
land where we are not total strangers.” 


48 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


He bowed his noble head, and became silent. 

Andrey was deeply moved by his friend’s grief. He drew 
nearer to him, and laid his hand softly upon his shoulder. He 
wanted tocheer him. He wanted to tell’him that the barbarity 
of the Russian peasants is the fruit of mere ignorance; that 
they have a larger stock of human kindness and tolerance than 


any people in the world; that when they are half as well | 


educated as the Germans, all medieval superstitions will 
disappear from among them, and leave no trace behind. 

But Andrey was prevented from saying this by the apple- 
faced representative of the rival race, who at this very moment 
approached them, and said, 

“ Good-night, gentlemen ! ” 

“Ah, Hans!” said David, ‘ you want to go home ?” 

“Ves, sir. Mother will be anxious about me. I must 
make haste.” 

David took from his waistcoat some silver groschen for the 
child, patted him on his rosy cheek, and dismissed him with a 
kind word. } 

“And the frontier?” asked Andrey. ‘‘ Have we to cross 
it by ourselves ?” | 

“The frontier! We have already crossed it.” 

“* But when ?” 

*“* Half-an-hour ago.” 

“Strange! I have seen nothing whatever, not even a 
guard.” 

‘‘The guard was probably stopping behind that hill over 
there, or in some other place where he cannot be seen, nor see 
uss” 

“‘ How very kind of him,” Andrey said, with a smile. 

““A very common trick of the trade,” David replied. 
‘““Nobody can find fault with him for staying at a given 
moment at some particular point upon the line he has to 


watch. For a few coppers, provided he knows you, he is 


always glad to linger a while in any place you prefer.” 

“‘ And if we were behind time, and the guard should see us 
as he came out ?” 

“‘ He would take to his heels and run back to his place of 


concealment ; that’s all. But we must not waste time. Let’s 


go straight to the village, lest some patrol should chance to see 
us. That would bring us no good; we are in the Tzar’s 
dominions now.” 





¥ 
— 
a 
, 
4 
Py. 





ie i A BUSY DAY. 49 


ih Pa etioune, whither they repaired, Andrey to his great 
joy found his travelling-bag, which the punctual German had 
already brought there. 

_ They arrived at the station just five minutes before the 
smoking and puffing foreign train stopped at the platform. It 
was a limited express, but all the safer for that, as well-to-do 
people are less likely to be intruded upon than the common 
herd. 

Andrey found a compartment, in which there was only one 
young man, asleep in a corner, his flaxen head wrapped up in a 
shawl. A gendarme walking up and down the platform 
courteously helped him with his bag. A last friendly nod from 
David, the train started, and Andrey felt himself in Russia in 
real earnest. 








CHAPTER V. 


THE TWO FRIENDS. 


wriggling and twisting and coiling up his long glistening 

tail, now dashing arrow-like into the darkness, panting 
and wailing in its struggle with space. But more quickly still 
than the red-eyed serpent are flying the thoughts of the traveller 
whom it carries to his destiny. After the excitement of the day, © 
Andrey is alone, and he ponders over the part he is about to 
take in the work he knew so well years ago, but which would be 
quite new to him now. His meeting with the Russians in the 
morning, and the uproarious chaotic discussions, had not failed 
to leave their mark upon him. These people brought with them 
a whiff of Russian air, and Andrey had scented in it something 
which surprised and puzzled him. There was evidently in the ~ 
revolutionary sea an undercurrent, somewhat narrow and 
exclusive, but very impetuous and passionate. Will he, on 
arriving, try his utmost to bring about an alliance with the 
tamer though more numerous elements of society? or will he 
swim with the new current, in order not to throw away the 
precious opportunity of energetic and immediate action? 
About this he could be clear only when on the spot. 

And here his heart ached suddenly, for his thoughts reverted 
to Boris. ‘This was the man in whose cool judgment and com 
prehensive mind he had trusted most, and to whose advice he 
would have most willingly listened. The idea that he was there 
no longer to be spoken to, perhaps never to be heard of again, 
was so depressing, that it seemed to Andrey all the anticipated 
pleasure of seeing the St Petersburg people was gone. 

“But what if George is arrested also in the meantime?” 
the thought crossed his mind. 

This was certainly as probable as the arrest of anybody else. 
At that moment Andrey was in the mood to believe that 


()" on, the black serpent with red-hot eyes is flying, now 





THE TWO FRIENDS. SI 


misfortunes never come singly. His apprehensions grew so 
foolishly strong upon him, that he resolved to send George a: 
telegram, announcing in conventional language, of course, his 
arrival by the morning express. ‘This he did at the first large 
station, and felt relieved from his anxiety, as if the telegram 
could act as a preservative. 

He was quite sure now that George would be at the station 


- to meet him, and he entered freely into conversation with his 


travelling companion,—the same whom he had taken overnight 
for a curly-haired young man. When in the morning the 
stranger awoke, and a closer examination of him was possible, 
he proved to be a thin elderly gentleman of sixty, with no curls 
whatever upon his bald pate smooth as a billiard-ball. For 
fear of draughts he had covered his head for the night with a 
cinnamon-coloured knitted nightcap, which Andrey had mis- 
taken in the darkness for his natural hair. 

In the tedium of a long journey conversation is easily 
started. ‘The old gentleman was a great talker. He could not 
sit face to face with a man for twelve hours without: inquiring 
whether he was married or single, landowner, tradesman or 
official, or a member of some liberal profession. He was most 
willing, in exchange, to expound his own concerns, with a great 
profusion of detail. They had quite a pleasant talk together. 
Andrey gave himself out as a business man, returning to his 
affairs after a holiday trip. His companion was a head clerk 
in the Ministry of Domains, returning from wintering abroad. 
From the impressions made by foreign lands they passed to 
their own country, and the old gentleman appeared to Andrey 


- to be one of the most thoroughly dissatisfied men he had ever 


met. He had no respect for the authorities, as he saw nothing 


- but folly in all the acts and measures of the Government, from 


the emancipation downwards. He did not believe in, or wish 
for, the stability of existing institutions, because everything, 
according to him, was bad, and ought to be changed. The civil 
service was badly paid, the landlords were ruined, the 
peasants were starving and insolvent, and there was no order 
anywhere ! | 

The fact that the man, to whom he poured out all these 
feelings and views, was a perfect stranger to him, whose name 
he did not ask, and who did not know his, seemed not to 
diminish in the least the old gentleman’s expansiveness. But 
at the last town before St Petersburg their ¢é¢e-d-té/e was inter- 


52 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


rupted by two other passengers who came into the compartment. 
The old gentleman thought it wiser not to commit himself in 
their presence, and he grew silent and somewhat melancholy. 
When the train ran under the glass roof of the vast terminus, 
he looked very severe and formal, as if he were mentally en- 
tering the lobby of his office. 

Andrey leaned out of the window of the carriage to look 
for George. The platform was crowded with people-—men, 
women, and children,—who came to meet friends or relatives. 
Porters with their wheelbarrows, shouting and expostulating, 
made their way between the groups. ‘There were the inevitable 
gendarmes passing up and down with dignified airs. Not see- 
ing George, Andrey concluded that he must be waiting for him 
at the outer door. 

With travelling-bag in hand, Andrey was elbowing his way 
through the throng, when a strong clap on the shoulder and a 
well-known voice made him turn his head. It was George, 
whom he had not recognised in the crowd. In the three years 
of separation he had grown from a youth into a young man, 
and a fair flowing beard covered his chin and cheeks. Besides, 
he was dressed with an elegance which was in strong contrast 
with his former nihilistic carelessness. 

‘* What a dandy you’ve become,” said Andrey, kissing his 
friend’s face with as much effusiveness as the place allowed of. 
“JT should not have recognised you at all.” 

*Can’t be helped; we are serious people now, and must 
keep up appearances. Any luggage?” 

“No, nothing but this,” answered Andrey, lifting in the 
air his rather heavy bag. 

In silence they passed out of the station, and took a droshky 
for George’s lodgings. ‘They arranged themselves as best they 
could upon the high and narrow seat of the open carriage. 

‘‘ Now tell me how it is with you? Allin good health?” 
Andrey asked eagerly, as soon as the horse began to move at 
slow trot. 

‘Yes, all our people are well,” said George. 

This meant, of course, that none of their friends had been 
recently arrested; questions of mere health are too unim- 
portant a matter to be inquired about amongst conspirators. 

“‘T come in good weather, then,” Andrey observed. 

“Not altogether,” George answered evasively ; “but of 
this later.” 





2 


THE TWO FRIENDS. 53 


He made a movement with his eyes towards the driver, 
who was sitting just in front of them. A hackney-coach in 
St Petersburg is not the place for discussing political news. 

Andrey nodded assent, and looked rapturously around upon 
the familiar streets. 

“‘ How nice it is to be jolting once more in this infernal 
vehicle!” he exclaimed. ‘There is nothing like it abroad, I 
assure you.” 

It made him quite happy to welcome the glorious town 
associated for him with so many pleasant recollections, and to 
know himself once more in his right place. The uncertainty 
of the long journey was over. He was again a unit of that 
mysterious body which had undermined the Tzar’s power be- 
neath his very nose, and contrived to hide itself almost under 
the skirts of his gendarmes and policemen. ‘There they stood, 
these myrmidons of the Tzar, sword and revolver in their belts, 
looking at them gravely as they passed by. But Andrey knew 
they were more likely to arrest half of the inhabitants of the 
capital, than to think that there was anything suspicious in two 
such bright and amiable young gentlemen. ‘The sense of the fun 
of the thing blunted completely the sentiment of actual danger. 

George lived in Jagarinskaia Street, where he occupied a 
couple of rooms, with a small ante-room. ‘There was space 
enough for two persons, and the friends resolved to spend a 
week or so together, till Andrey could find suitable lodgings 
for himself. It is the rule among revolutionists that two of them 
should not live together, unless it is necessary for ‘ business ” 
purposes, so that the arrest of one may not needlessly involve 
another in his ruin. 

When Andrey had removed all traces of his long journey, 
George accompanied him to “headquarters,” where one was 
sure to find a couple or so of the members of their section. 
They paid, always in company, a few short visits to the friends 
who lived near, putting off all other business until the morrow. 

Thus they managed to get back home early in the after- 
noon. They wanted to have the day all to themselves. 
They had to sound each other’s views and opinions on so 
many subjects. Andrey had so much to ask, and George so 
much to tell of the new men and new things with which the 
newcomer would have to deal. They: talked long and hard, 
Andrey partly discussing, partly listening, trying to make the 
best use of his friend’s information. 


ue fe ae ee 


54 THE CAREER OF A NIBILIST. 





*“Enough of politics for to-day,” he said at last, when the 
many points which presented themselves had been thrashed 
_ out as much as they could be ina five hours’ animated con- 
versation. ‘You must tell me now everything about yourself, 
George.” 

George was pacing up and down the room, his hands 
behind him, still meditating upon graver subjects. 

“Where do you want me to begin? It is a long story,” he 
said. 

“At the beginning. I know really nothing of you except 
what you have printed, which is very little.” 

‘Then you know most of me,” George replied, “though it 
certainly is very little.” 

“ But have you not written something besides? Your other 
things, you know?” Andrey inquired. 

He meant poetry, in which George indulged in the inter- 
vals left by his more prosaic and laborious duties as a party 
journalist. 

“Very little,’ George answered; “hardly anything at all, 
since the publication, I mean, of my little volume, which you 
have seen. I have been working much of late in the young 
people’s clubs.” 

“Yes? And what are your impressions? I was told by 
several people abroad that our rising generation is becoming 
very worldly-wise, and the philistines make many converts 
among them.” 

“The eternal complaint of the purblind and faint-hearted,” 
George replied warmly, ‘‘who in the great book of life can see 
only the besmeared margins.” 

He told his own experiences, which had led him to 
entirely different conclusions—rather too bright than otherwise. 
To confirm his general statements, he mentioned several of 
his young friends by name. 

“You must meet them some day, Andrey,” he said ; “ you'll 
agree with my opinion of them, I’m sure.’ 

He gave in a few words some characteristics of each of 
them. But he did not dwell long on this matter, as a man 
who is in a hurry to pass to another subject of exceptional 
interest. 

“There is one girl, whom I wish you particularly to know,” 
he proceeded, sitting down close to Andrey on the same large 
settee. “Her name is Tatiana Grigorievna Repina, the 











THE TWO FRIENDS. 55 


daughter of the famous barrister. She is quite an extraordinary 
girl.” 

“You have a knack, my dear fellow,” Andrey observed, “ of 
discovering most extraordinary and exceptional persons, espe- 
cially among girls.” 

“Oh, there are qualities so palpable, that it is impossible to 
be mistaken about them. That’s just the case with Repina, 
who is certainly one of the most remarkable characters I ever 
met.” . 

“ And how old is she?” asked Andrey. 

This was the weak point in George’s case, and he knew it. 

‘“‘She is nineteen,” he said, assuming an easy tone. ‘“ But 
what does that matter ?” 

* Beautiful, I suppose ?” 

George did not answer. A characteristic square knot of 
wrinkles appeared upon his forehead, giving to his face an 
expression of annoyance, almost of pain. 

“Ton’t be angry with me,” Andrey hastened to apologise, 
taking him by the hand. “I meantnoharm. ‘The face is said 
to be the mirror of the soul, you know,” he added, unable to 
altogether repress the temptation to jesting. 

George’s anger could not last long, and it melted away ata 
friendly word. He turned round with vivacity, and drew up 
his feet on the settee, so as to face his friend better. Then 
he entered into a long and very eloquent dissertation upon 
Tania’s moral and intellectual qualities. 

What struck him most in the girl was a remarkable com- 
bination of capacity for intense enthusiasm, with coolness 
and exactitude of practical judgment. Hers was the mind of 
an eventual leader, not the less powerful because endowed 
with feminine flexibility and grace. 

All this George developed with great elegance of style 
and the charming candour of conviction. 

Andrey listened to him with an incredulous but sympathetic 
smile. He was sure that nine-tenths at least of what George 
was saying was the work of his fecund imagination. George’s 
heart was very affectionate, but he was singularly deficient in 
the middle notes in the scale of human sympathies. In his 
relations with his fellow-men he rapidly verged either towards 
a high degree of admiration or towards complete indifference. 
He was constantly led astray in his appreciation of people 
whom he met, though he pretended to know men well. He 


ee a ee Ee ee oe oe ee i eae Se he 
i pt 


56 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


actually did know them in his way, though one could not 
trust his opinion. But Andrey, whose gamut of sympathetic 
capacities was normal, loved his friend most for that very 
unruliness of heart. He was delighted to find how little he 
had changed. 

“Ves!” he exclaimed, laughing, “ you must introduce me to 
your young friend. If one-tenth of what you say about her is 
true, she is certainly the flower of her generation. Where do 
you meet her? At your students’ club, or at her parents’ ?” 

“We meet regularly at club: But we call sometimes at 
the Repins—Zina and I. He is not afraid to receive ‘ illegal’ 
people. I think you had better meet Tatiana Grigorievna 
at her own home.” . 

Andrey agreed with this. He was anxious to know Repin 
too, and expressed his satisfaction that such a big-wig as 
Repin was on their side. 

“‘T am not quite sure of that,” George observed. “I can’t 
make out what his exact position is. Zina knows him better, 
and speaks of him very highly. The fact is, that he’s been 
helpful to us on many difficult occasions.” 

George gave some instances, showing that Repin’s con- 
tributions were far beyond the amounts contributed by 
ordinary sympathisers. 

“He must be a rich man,” said Andrey. 

‘“‘'Ves, he is very well off,’ George answered. ‘“ But I am 
not sure that all this money comes from him. ‘Tania is rich 
herself. She will have a fortune when she comes of age. 
Some sort of maternal succession ; I don’t know quite. Zina 
told me, but I didn’t pay much attention. Certainly,” he 
added in a soft dreamy tone, “she will be herself a much 
more precious acquisition for our cause than all the money 
she can bring with her.” 

Andrey turned his head rapidly towards the speaker. But 
he could not catch George’s eyes. They were looking vacantly 
into space, as if in contemplation of some distant object. 

Andrey uttered to himself a significant ‘‘hm!” and resolved 
that he would take the first opportunity to make the acquaint- 
ance of this extraordinary girl. 

With the great freedom of intercourse between young people 
prevailing in Russia, a warm affection, and even admiration, of 
a young man for a girl, or vice versa, does not necessarily mean 
anything particular. They may be great friends, and nothing 








tl i i me , 






~ 


q 


















THE TWO FRIENDS. 


“more, To an extravagant head like George’s, the latitude of 
friendship was particularly wide. Still, in his tone and face, 


when he spoke about this girl, there was something which 
- "? “seemed to express rather more. Andrey desired to see them 


together, in order to solve doubts which were not unmixed with 


‘* i: apprehension. He did not exactly side with those of his friends 
_ who proclaimed as a principle that a revolutionist must never — 
_ love a woman. Still, he considered that it was better for them 


to keep aloof from stich “nonsense” as long as they could. If 
George fell into this predicament just now, Andrey did not 
think he ought to be congratulated upon it, all the more since 
his chosen one was, as far as he could guess, a fashionable 
girl of a set very different from their own. 


i Se 


CHAPTER VI. 


A MIXED PARTY. 


EPIN answered his daughter’s request by saying that he 
R should be very glad to see Andrey at his house. But 
three weeks passed before Andrey was able to avail 

himself of the invitation. 

Zina meanwhile had returned from her visit to Dubravnik, 
bringing such unfavourable news that all, herself and Andrey 
included; were forced to agree that, for the present at least, 
any attempt to rescue Boris would be hopeless. As Zina 
wished to talk to the Repins about the affair, in which they took 
a warm interest, she proposed to accompany Andrey to their 
house. So they expected to have a regular “illegal” tea-party 
under the lawyer’s roof. 

Andrey was living now in his own lodgings at Pesky, not far 
from those of Zina, so that it was convenient for both to come 
together. George was thus relieved from the duty of escorting 
his friend, which seemed to him quite a sufficient reason for 
going much earlier than the others. At six sharp, when he 
knew the family had finished their after-dinner coffee, he rang 
the electric bell at the outer door of the luxurious flat occupied 
by Repin in Konushennaia Street. 

He had hardly time to inquire whether the family was at 
home, when rapid footsteps were heard in the adjacent room, 
and Tania came out to greet him with a smile and a familiar 
shake of the hand. She was a graceful brunette, with large black 
eyes beneath strongly marked eyebrows, and a well-shaped 
mouth, rather large. It was a lively original face, not exactly 
beautiful, but positively bewitching when she smiled. 

“Only you!” she exclaimed, in a tone of mock disap- 
pointment. 

‘Yes, only I, Tatiana Grigorievna,” George replied. ‘“ But 
you need not despair, the others are coming soon.” 

She led the way into the dining-room, where they found her 








A MIXED PARTY. 59 


father—a tall grey-bearded man of about fifty-five—in com- 
pany with a young gentleman of thirty, with a velvet jacket and 
long chestnut hair, who looked like a distinguished artist. He 
was Nicolas Petrovich Krivoluzky, professor at one of the St 
Petersburg high schools, and a great friend of Repin’s. 

The usual greetings over, Krivoluzky resumed his interrupted 
narrative about the approaching collision between the reaction- 
ary and the liberal section of the Imperial Society for the Pro- 
motion of Bee-keeping in Russia, to which he was secretary. 
Repin and he seemed to be deeply engrossed in the subject, 
and Repin laughed heartily over the tricks of the reactionists to 
secure a majority for the next nomination of chairman. 

The young people made a polite attempt to show them- 
selves interested in the discussion of their elders. But soon 
they glided into talk of their own. ‘Tania asked George what 
were the questions debated at their students’ club at the last 
meeting, at which she had been unable to be present. George 
answered, and then inquired in his turn whether she had pre- 
pared the summary of the book which she had to expound at 
the next meeting. 

“Ves, Ihave. But I think it so abominably done, that I 
shall probably not read it at all. I am sorry I did not take 
something easier.” 

“Every beginning is hard,” said George. ‘But perhaps it 
is not so bad as you think. Will you show it to me?” 

“With pleasure. But I am sure you will think it quite as 
bad as I do.” 

She led him into her room, where upon her small neat 
writing-desk lay a cleanly copied, carefully sewn manuscript, 
written with wide margins. This she handed to him. 

George took from his pocket a pencil, and set himself to 
read in silence, with the rapidity of a pressman accustomed 
to deal with copy. 

Tania sat opposite, upright upon a stool, and remained 
silent as a fish, looking in amusing suspense at George’s face. 
She was very anxious he should not think her a fool, yet this 
first effort of hers was so bad that she did not know how he 
could help it. 

They had been acquainted only for a few months, but long 
enough for them to have become fast friends. The young girl 
never remembered leading a life so full and many-sided as 
since she met George. When years ago, Zina, just escaped 


~ 


60 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 





from prison, appeared at their house, she upset Tania’s tranquil 
thoughts by revealing to her a new world. But she was a child 
then, and the mysterious world in which Zina lived frightened 
her as much as it interested her. Now she began to see more 
clearly. She liked her companions, the students to whom she 
was introduced. At one of their meetings she had met George, 
who very soon became the chief figure in her intellectual life. 

Listening to him, the girl felt new forces stirring in her soul. 
George did not flatter her, or pay her a single compliment. 
No self-respecting man of the generation which championed so 
hotly women’s rights would permit himself such a vulgarity, 
nor would any girl of their set listen without offence. Indeed, 
George tried not to hurt her modesty by speaking about her- 
self at all. Of this exquisite pleasure he took his fill at the 
expense of his many friends, whom he bothered with elaborate 
disquisitions upon the extraordinary qualities of the girl he had 
discovered. But he was so full of the subject, that it made its 
appearance somehow whatever else he said. When talking 
about Andrey and the pleasure of meeting him, he could not 
conceal from Tania how much he had spoken-to Andrey about 
her. When there was something to say about the club to 
which they both belonged, it chanced, he did not know how, 
that this led him to illustrate, or to allude delicately to, some 
of the young girl’s hidden qualities or revolutionary talents. 

Whilst protesting and disbelieving, Tania could not help 
feeling elated and thankful for appreciation so high from a man 
who was not one of the common herd. George appeared to 
her with the halo of a fearless knight, fighting for a noble 
cause, and risking his liberty and life for it. ‘That there was 
nothing but friendship between them she never doubted. 
Attractive as she was, and rich into the bargain, she had her 
ample share of courtship and admiration. Nothing resembling 
this could be detected in George’s behaviour. He treated her 
like a comrade, without any sign of obsequiousness. He 
scolded her sometimes, and always told her the truth to her 
face when he thought she was in the wrong. ‘That is why his 
company was so agreeable to her, and why the sweetness of 
his delicate half-suppressed praise was so penetrating. 

She was quite relieved when, after reading her paper, George 
said that as far as the matter went it was not bad. With a 
few marks of the pencil he showed her some transpositions 
and abbreviations which would set it all right. 





‘a 
a 
. 
a 
- 
, 
+ 





A MIXED PARTY. 61 


They were in the midst of their talk, when Zina and Andrey 
entered. 

At the sight of her, the young girl forgot her paper and 
George and everything, in a flood of generous pity for her un- 
fortunate friend. She knew how deeply Zina loved Boris, and 
it was the first time they had met since Zina’s discouraging 


_ journey to Dubravnik. 


With a searching frightened look in her large pathetic eyes, 
Tania rushed towards her friend to embrace her, and kissed 
her face with girlish effusiveness. But the strikingly beautiful 
face of the young woman was quite calm and composed. 
Looking at the two women at this moment, one would have 
supposed Tania to be the bereaved, and the other to be bent 
upon the charitable purpose of comforting her. Zina’s deep 
grey eyes met Tania’s distressed and sympathetic look with 
perfect steadiness. No cloud was visible upon the delicately 
modelled straight forehead, framed by a waving line of fair 
curls. Her bright smile showed her genuine pleasure at the 
welcome. hy. 

Tania felt reassured. She was so ready to be reassured, 
poor child. Mourning does not agree with hopeful youth. 

“And where is Grigory Alexandrovitch?” Zina inquired. 
** At home, I suppose ? ” 

“Yes, papa is with Krivoluzky. We fled here so as not to 
annoy them with our chatting,” said Tania. “Now we are in 
such numbers, we can break in upon them safely.” 

_ George introduced Andrey to her. 

“This is my chum, Tatiana Grigorievna. I beg you to 
like him,” he said. 

**T promise to try,” the young girl answered, holding out to 
Andrey her hand, with a movement that struck him by its 
genuine grace. 

They found that Repin and Krivoluzky had taken refuge 
in the study, in the midst of a cloud of smoke. 

Andrey was introduced under the name of Petroff for con- 
venience, though Repin knew of course who he was, as well 
as Krivoluzky, who had come on purpose to meet him. 

The old barrister gave Andrey a hearty welcome. Among 
the older refugees there were several companions of Repin’s 
youth, and he wanted to know how they were doing in foreign 
lands. 

Andrey was able to satisfy his host’s curiosity, as he either 


62 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. - 


knew them or had heard about them all from their friends. 
‘The Russian refugees abroad form but a small body, and the 
oldest of them are universally known. Repin’s friends were of 
this number. They were toiling hard, each along his own line, 
separated mostly from each other by political dissensions. 
Some were in good health, others were not. ‘This was all the 
news which could be given about their rather monotonous 
existence. 

“ You will not find the life monotonous here, I am afraid,” 
said his host. A good-natured smile parted his thick lips, but 
it quickly vanished, the roughly-hewn powerful face of the old 
lawyer assuming a serious thoughtful expression. 

The conversation grew general.: Repin had been to 
Switzerland in Herzen’s time, and related his experiences and 
his agreeable impressions. 

‘‘What a painful contrast it must be to you,” he said to 
Andrey, “after being accustotrned for so long to complete 
freedom, to drop into this unfortunate country, where you 
cannot utter a word without being collared by a gendarme.” 


“The contrast is great, of course,” Andrey replied. “ As_ 


far as I am concerned, I do not find it so painful; certainly I 
am better here than I was there.” 

Repin shook his big head incredulously. The sight of this 
man, in the bloom of youth, who had come across Europe 
into this dreadful town, swarming with spies and police, to 
| meet certain death for a dream, moved his heart to pity, and 
stung him with a sort of reproach. He looked at him and his 
two friends, and shook his head again. 

“No, don’t say that!” he resumed. ‘To be always in 
apprehension ; never to have a moment of safety and peace by 
day ; to be awakened by every unusual noise by night,—with 
the thought that your last moment has come! It must be 
dreadful ! ” 

The good man was so much in earnest, and the pathetic 
picture he had drawn so distorted, that those most concerned 
in it burst into hearty laughter. 

“TI beg your pardon,” said Andrey, apologetically, ‘‘ but 
your picture is really very strong.” 

Repin was not in the least offended, but much interested, 
as an observer of human nature. ‘The irrepressible outburst of 
naive and discourteous laughter was more convincing than any 
arguments. 








Te a ee cl eee eae | A 


A MIXED PARTY. 63 


“Do you mean to tell me that you do not mind the 
dangers besetting you?” he asked, looking round in surprise. 

Zina sat at the extremity of the circle, which was formed 
around Repin’s chair, and his eyes dwelt upon her longest, as 
if his general question referred to her in particular. 

“It comes too often, Grigory Alexandrovitch. One soon 
gets accustomed to everything—unfortunately,” she said, a 
shadow clouding for a moment her face. 

It was in consequence of an. unpardonable piece of care- 
lessness that the Dubravnik tragedy, in which Boris was 
involved, had taken place. 

But the cloud passed as naturally as it came, and her grey 
eyes looked as clear and firm as before. 

Though the consciousness of her fresh and irreparable loss 
never abandoned her for a moment, it was impossible to 
suppose that her outward calmness was only a mask-held over 
her face by mere effort of will. Every tone of her voice, and 
every line of this beautiful blonde head, breathed such sincerity, 
that even her stoicism must have been natural and not 
assumed. ‘This, too, was the effect of long acquired habits. 
In the world in which Zina moved, there is at least one out of 
every three persons whose heart is torn to pieces by a mis- 
fortune similar to hers. Life would become impossible, and 


_ their work, admitting of not one moment’s relaxation, would 


have stopped altogether, did they not keep their nerves in 
good order. 

Zina was not in a talkative mood to-night, but she took 
part in the conversation in the same natural and simple way 
as she fulfilled her everyday duties. She supported Andrey 
when he tried to give to his host a truer idea of the life of an 
“illegal” man. She laughed when George undertook to prove 
that in Russia the “illegal” people are the only ones who, at 
times at least, enjoy the full protection of the laws. 

“Take yourself, for example,” he said to Repin, “are you 
sure that this very night the police will not break into your 
house? You have dismissed a clerk for swindling, and he 
might wish to take his revenge by accusing you of harbouring 
terrorists; you have said something against the government, 
and some eavesdropper will report it to the Third Section ; you 
have written years ago in the same strain to a friend, who has 
been arrested, and your letter has just been discovered. Have 


you not actually done all this?” 





64 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST.  _ 


Repin confessed his guilt. 

“Then it is sheer carelessness on your part that you sleep 
with tranquillity,” George went on, “‘because you may be 
arrested to-night, and to-morrow be on your way to Archangel, 
or to some remoter and more uncomfortable place.” 

The old lawyer answered with a smile that he hoped no 
such thing would happen to him, but of course he could not 
be sure of it. | 

“And we can!” George exclaimed, with mock triumph. 
‘* All our sins are washed away from us when we throw into the 
fire our old passports and reappear with a fresh one. Provided 
it is a good one, and we keep our eyes open, we can manage 
very well. I shall soon celebrate the fourth anniversary of my 
illegal existence.” 

“Then you are living twice the usual term at somebody 
else’s expense,” said Andrey. ‘‘It is calculated that the illegal 
people don’t live more than two years on the average.” 

“They might prolong it at least to three years, if they were 
not so slow in changing their passports,” George observed, 
chiefly for his own gratification, since nobody heard his wise 
remark. ‘Tea was announced, and all rose and passed into the 
dining-room. 

* Zinaida Petrovna,” said Repin, who brought up the rear, 
“JT have something to ask you,—please stop a moment. 
“Tania,” he added, ‘‘ send us our tea here.” 

He wanted to know all the particulars as to how the matter 
stood with her husband, for whom he had a sincere respect, 
and to ask whether he could be in any way useful to her. 

Zina guessed what he had in his mind. There was not 
much to say about her own affair, which was at a deadlock, 
but she wanted to have a quiet talk with Repin. She had the 
affair of the two sisters Polivanov to arrange. ‘The gendarmes 
were inclined to let them out on bail, after two years of 
imprisonment, as no proof against them had been yet forth- 
coming. It was essential to find good sureties for them at 
once, because the girls were said to be in bad health. Zina 
expected Repin would stand for one, but he had to provide 
another. Besides, she wanted him to obtain if possible some 
information from the State Attorney as to the fate of those 
condemned in the last political trial, who were conveyed away 


secretly, nobody knew where. 
% % %* 




















el 1 ee ‘tet 


a 


_t75 ‘eat gt 


cineca nicmeninare 
joo We ce 
a ; 


A MIXED PARTY. 2 


The merry voices and the laughter of the young people 
reached Repin and Zina from the dining-room. George fell 
out with Krivoluzky upon the professor’s favourite hobby, that 
until the wholesale conversion has taken place of the Russian 
peasantry into landless proletarians subject to the yoke of 
capitalists, there is no hope for the labour movement in Russia. 

The debate was led by George, the two others listening,— 
Tania, with the strained attention of a neophyte, trying hard to 
understand the learned lucubrations of the professor; Andrey, 
with a genuine curiosity for this new type of scientific craze.- 
Now and then he put short questions to Krivoluzky, leaving, 
however, the main field to his friend. George was a brilliant 
debater, his enormous memory permitting him to retain all the 
details of his opponent’s longest speeches. Andrey put in a 
few words, but his interest soon flagged ; he had nothing or 
very little of that ardent passion for debate so common among 
the Russians, in the absence of some more substantial outlet 
for energy. 

He was glad when Zina, having finished her conspiracy 
with the lawyer, to her evident satisfaction, appeared in the 
doorway. Repin followed her. 

Well, how stands the matter?” he asked the disputants. 
* Are the destinies of Russia settled already, or is there 
anything still left doubtful ?”’ 

The square furrow of annoyance appeared upon George’s 
forehead before he was able to repress it. He did not like 
this bantering tone. Andrey, on the contrary, was delighted, 
and explained to Repin into what a deadlock their country 
was put by his learned friend. 

New guests arrived; Orest Pudovikoff, a journalist, with 
his wife, who gave a new turn to the conversation. But 
Andrey did not take part in it. He joined the two ladies, 
who were deep in an animated discussion of their own. 

“You must help me to keep her a little while with us,” 
Tania appealed to him. 

Now that Zina was going, it flashed upon the young girl 
that her calmness was that of self-control, not of resignation. 
She reproached herself with insensibility to her friend’s sorrow, 
and wanted an opportunity to make amends, though she did 
not exactly know how. 

** Are you really going, Zina?” asked Andrey. ‘It is so 


early.” 


E 


 *-. = 


66 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST.  ~ 


“Yes. I have business at Bascow Row.” 

“You can do your business to-morrow morning. Do be 
good and stay a little,’ Tania insisted coaxingly, clasping 
Zina by the waist with the caressing grace of a kitten. 

Zina laughed that short deep laugh which was one of her 
greatest charms. The girl’s suggestion was so incongruous. 
The business which called her to Bascow Row at half-past 
ten sharp was to meet the gaoler of the fortress, who trans- 
mitted the letters from the political prisoners detained in 
one of the ravelins. 

‘“No, dear,” she said, kissing the eager face turned 
towards her, “I can’t do it to-morrow, or I should have stayed 
with you of my own accord. I will look in on Saturday 
afternoon,” she added, ‘‘ but now I must run away.” 

She went out, giving them a parting smile from the door. 
It seemed as if the whole tone of their surroundings had 
been raised to a higher level by her presence. The sight of 
great courage in bearing great misfortune, has the power of 
tuning souls to a higher pitch. ‘Tania and Andrey felt 
themselves drawn towards each other by their community of 
affection for her. 

** Have you been long acquainted with Zinaida Petrovna?” 
Andrey asked. 

“‘T met her when she first escaped from prison. But it is 
only since she settled in St Petersburg that we have seen 
much of her, and I really knew what a woman she is!” 
Tania replied ‘enthusiastically. 

“TY shall not have the same chances of seeing you often, 
Tatiana Grigorievna. But I entered this house with the 
hope of leaving it, if possible, your friend,’ Andrey said, 
looking trustingly in her eyes. ‘You are not offended at my 
presumption, I hope ?” 

“Quite the reverse,” answered the girl seriously. 

“Thank you. ‘Then let us have a good talk to begin with,” 
said Andrey. 

He looked round, and having found a retired corner 
invited her to take an easy-chair, and placed by it a stool for 
himself. 

“You are far from being a stranger to me,” Andrey — 
proceeded. “I may say you were almost an acquaintance of 
mine before we met. George has spoken so much of you, 
and very eloquently, I assure you.” 





el ll 
\v ie A 


A MIXED PARTY. 67 


Tania blushed slightly, and felt vexed with herself, and 
angry with Andrey, who was the cause of the blush. Her 
kindly feeling for him vanished at once. 

**T will repay your compliment with a vengeance,” she said, 
“for I’m sure I have heard of you more than you can have 
heard of me, and from various people. So that my information 
has the advantage of not being one-sided.” 

“So much the better,” said Andrey, “it gives me a claim 
to get compensation.” 

The girl’s temper was not improved by seeing him so 
outrageously unconcerned. A delicate swelling, intended to 
be a frown, appeared between the long eyebrows upon the 
smooth and pure forehead, which no cares or sorrows had yet 
furrowed with wrinkles. She was accustomed to have young 
men show her an obsequious deference, and was not prepared 
to make an exception in the case of a man who was after all a 
perfect stranger to her. She was sorry not to have been more 
formal with him from the beginning. 

* You regret, Tatiana Grigorievna, your former kindness, 
and you think I am abusing it?” Andrey said, reading her 
thoughts in her face. 

*‘ Well, perhaps I am,” he went on, without giving her time 
to answer. ‘“ But you must make some allowance for us. The 
existence of conspirators is short, and the opportunities they 
have for friendly intercourse are few. We must be excused if 
we try to make the most of them by sometimes dropping 
conventional formalities. ‘To-night our ways in life cross for 
a moment, and nobody can tell whether they will ever cross 
again. Will you permit me to speak with you quite frankly 
without reserve, as if we were comrades ?” 

The ice was broken. Under the calm tone of her strange 
guest the girl felt something pathetic and melancholy, which 
touched her generous heart, melting her superficial worldliness. 
She was ashamed of her suspicious reserve, which now seemed 
to her quite out of place with this man. 

“Yes!” she exclaimed warmly, looking him in the face, 
“speak as you like.” 

Andrey was surprised at the pleasure her assent gave him. 
There was in the girl something which George had probably 
forgotten to mention, but which attracted him exceedingly, 
on her own account, independently of the part she might play 
in his friend’s life. 


 - So © 
~~ eT 


68 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. ~ 


He questioned her upon her present occupations and her 
intellectual pursuits, her political opinions, her doubts, and her 
purposes in life. His questions troubled and agitated her 
sometimes, but she was pleased with them, and did not try to 
resist the strange power this man exercised over her. After 
the first quarter of an hour she felt at ease with him, as if they 
had been long acquainted. 

George joined them, unable to withstand the force of 
attraction, but soon withdrew. He was so anxious they 
should become friends, that he was ready to sacrifice himself 
to give them the chance to have a good talk to themselves. 
He contented himself with looking at the girl from a distance, 
hastily casting his eyes down when ‘he met Andrey’s slightly 
mocking glances. 

At a quarter to the sacramental hour of twelve, which marks 
the beginning of the hours specially “unsafe,” Andrey and 
George left, and the company broke up. 

Tania retired to her bedroom full of the pleasant impressions 
of the evening. She took off her elegant gown—too elegant 
and costly for a girl of her views. George had several times 
hotly reproached her for her love of finery. Sitting before a 
large looking-glass, she arranged her black tresses for the night. 
She was on the whole very much satisfied with her new ac- 
quaintance. The evident desire of a man like Kojukhov to 
make a friend of her, flattered her youthful vanity. 


“How amusingly he looked at me when he asked per-. 


_ mission to treat me like a comrade!” she exclaimed ; and she 
laughed aloud, showing in the glass two brilliant rows of small 
white teeth, and a pair of glistening black eyes. 

But as she recalled to memory the details of their unusual 
conversation, a strong revulsion of feeling came upon her. 
Kojukhov was the first conspirator of note she had met. 
George was really a much more prominent man, but he was an 
altogether exceptional one, not to be measured by the common 
standard. But Kojukhov, why should he care to know so 
much about her? Personally she could have no interest to 
him. He wasa conspirator, and he wanted to ascertain whether 
she was worth enlisting or not. She was for him an eventual 
utility, and he had come to gauge her value. That was all. 
This idea made her angry with herself, and very miserable. She 
could not forgive herself for having been almost a party to his 
experiments. He had taken her by surprise; the next time 











A MIXED PARTY, 69 


she would teach him better. The image of George sent a wave 
of repentance and tenderness over her heart. She began to 
appreciate the value of his lavish affection and delicate solici- 
tude, by contrast with this Kojukhov. 


The street-door of Repin’s house had hardly closed behind 
them, when George seized his friend by the arm, and asked him 
in an excited tone,— 

“Now, tell me, what do you think about Tatiana Gri- 
gorievna ?” 

“Well, I rather like her,” was the calm reply. 

George dropped his friend’s arm, and turned his head aside 
in sulky silence. ‘This was the reward for his self-sacrifice 
throughout the whole evening! He was disappointed, well-nigh 
offended. Was there ever such a provokingly irresponsive man 
as Andrey? But he soon recovered, and began to make excuses 
for his friend. One can’t expect a man to know a person after 
an hour’s conversation. ‘Then, as Andrey was not prepared to 
talk about the girl, George, by way of consolation, undertook 
the task himself. His resources were great, and he could afford 
to give a pleasant variety to the subject. 

Andrey was a very good listener, understanding quickly and 
objecting little. ‘This was the primary cause of their early 
friendship. Now he listened to George with his usual sympa- 
thetic interest, but he seemed to agree with him about nothing. 

“Strength of character!” he interrupted George ; ‘‘ I doubt 
if she has any. In the sense you mean, at all events.” 

George smiled at so gross a blunder on his friend’s part. 

**T see you do not know her at all,” he said. 

“Possibly. ‘Though I think I do,” Andrey replied. 

*You have been probably misled by those yielding ways 


which fashionable girls like herself like to assume.” 


“Do you think her a fashionable girl? I thought her, on 
the contrary, very simple and natural,—a good genuine Russian 
girl, and nothing more.” 

“Nothing more! Then you did not like her at all? And 
you said you did.” 

Andrey laughed. 

*You are mistaken, my dear fellow,” he said good-humour- 
edly. ‘‘And to prove that I really liked her, I tell you at 
once that if she falls in love with you, as you have with her, Til 
give you unhesitatingly a paternal benediction.” 


7° THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. ~ 


It was the first time Andrey had spoken to George so plainly 
about his love affair. He wanted to see them together to be 
quite sure, knowing how often “this nonsense,” as he called 
love in general, might be fanned into something inconveniently 
serious by friendly interference and encouragement. Now that 
he had seen them together no doubt was possible, and there 
was no reason for reticence. 

The young philosopher did not suspect that this “ nonsense” 
had already struck root in his own heart, and the only way for 
him to prevent the poison permeating his whole being was never 
to see again those black sparkling eyes, that pure forehead, and 
that bewitching smile. 

But as there was nobody to give him that advice, and a 
wonderful calm reigned in his heart, Andrey did not think of 
flying from temptation. Indeed, he dismissed the subject from 
his mind altogether, because at this moment his attention was 
directed into an entirely different channel. 

For some time past he had heard persistent and suspicious 
footsteps behind them. ‘They sounded always at the same 
distance, and were uneven, now overbold and now overcautious, 
like treachery. In all probability they were followed by a spy. 
Andrey said nothing of his suspicions to George, fearing that, 
as he was a nervous man, he might turn his head in order to see 
the man behind them, which would put the spy on his guard 
and spoil their game. ‘Taking his friend by the arm, Andrey 
quickened his pace as if in the heat of conversation. ‘The man 
behind them quickened his pace too. Andrey repeated the ex- 
periment by slackening his speed, with the same effect. Yes, 
they had a spy behind them, and a foolish one into the bargain. 
Andrey was perfectly sure that for half a mile from Repin’s 
door they had not been followed. ‘The spy was probably a 
rambling one, attracted by some words of a suspicious nature 
uttered too loudly as they passed him. The thing was not 
serious ; still they must get rid of him, especially as they were 
now approaching George’s lodgings. 

“There is a spy following us,” Andrey said to his com- 
panion, “but you must not take any notice of him. At the 
corner of Kosoi Lane we will separate, and I will take him 
upon myself. It’s a good bit farther to my place, you know.” 

** All right,” said George, nodding his head. 

They soon reached the point for parting. George went his 
way, but Andrey took a few paces, and then stopped a while to 





- ee —— -—- 


A MIXED PARTY. 71 


light a cigarette. Now that he saw the man’s face, all doubts 
were dispelled. The tall post-like fellow, with big red hands 
and yellow hair and whiskers, bore upon his face the stamp of 
his profession, in the peculiar scared and strained expression, 
which he vainly tried to conceal by an easy and nonchalant 
gait. 

The spy having to choose which of the two to follow, 
hesitated a few moments at a little distance. Andrey was the 
elder of the two, and he prided himself upon looking much 
more imposing and serious than George. He was sure the 
spy ought to choose him. So in all probability he would have 
done, but Andrey’s match did not catch fire at once. He 
stopped a moment longer, and the spy, perplexed by his 
waiting, turned short to the right, plunging resolutely into the 
street George had taken. 

This eventuality Andrey had also foreseen, and he immedi- 
ately followed his man. An enemy in the front, and another 
in the rear, in a deserted thoroughfare, is an uncomfortable 
position. The pluckiest of spies will not stand it for three 
minutes, and in fact the wretch stopped short, as if to read a 
theatre bill fastened to the wall. Andrey passed him, quietly 
smoking his cigarette. When he was some fifteen yards away, 
he recognised the man’s footsteps behind him once more. 
This was what he expected. As he walked more slowly than 
George, with the air of a man on the look-out for a cab, he 
gave his friend a considerable start, and soon saw him dis- 
appear round a corner. 

Andrey’s next move was to have himself followed for 
a while through the deserted streets, and then to take a 
solitary cab and, ordering it to drive to some out-of-the-way 
place, leave the spy on the pavement. But he was spared 
the expense of an unnecessary drive. ‘The steps of his pursuer 
became less and less audible, and after a time were heard no 
more. Guessing that he was found out, the spy gave up the 
chase of his own accord. This confirmed Andrey’s first sup- 
position that the incident had nothing serious in it. Still, who 
can tell? 

On returning to his rooms he carefully bolted the doors, so 
as not to be taken by surprise, and ascertained whether the 
dagger and loaded revolver he always wore in a belt under his 
coat were in good order. 


CHAPTER VII. 
TANIA WINS HER SPURS. 


EORGE’S accidental remark about the insecurity of 

(5 Repin’s sleep proved an ill-omened prophecy. His 

two dangerous guests were hardly out of sight when 
gendarmes appeared. 

Repin was not a coward, but his blood ran cold when men, 
in the hated blue uniform, entered the room. His first idea 
was that the two young men were recognised as they left his 
house, and arrested in the street, and that the search in his 
house was only the consequence of their arrest. But the 
first words of the gendarmes reassured him. ‘The unwelcome 
_ visit was due to some vague suspicions, the origin of which he 
could not make out. Its coincidence with the visit of the two 
conspirators was evidently a chance. Repin gave a sigh of 
relief. As for himself, he had nothing particular to fear. 

The police ransacked the house, but found nothing com- 
promising. At three in the morning they went away. In 
consideration of Repin’s high social position he was not 
arrested, and had only to pay a disagreeable visit to the police 
office, and to answer some impertinent and foolish questions. 

He was left in peace, but a watch was kept over him by the 
disappointed police. This was likely to have disagreeable 
consequences to all concerned, if the spies detected some of the 
rather frequent visits of Zina or George. It was necessary to 
inform them without the slightest delay of what had happened. 
Accordingly Tania was despatched the very next morning to 
the revolutionary camp, to warn her friends that the coast was 
not clear. 

She started upon her errand with all the excitement of a 
young girl who has for the first time serious business entrusted 
to her. Since their house was watched, it was more than 
probable that each of its inmates would be followed. She was 
in mortal fear lest instead of a warning to her friends she might 


EEE 


ae eae eae 


a I PER 





TANIA WINS HER SPURS. 73 


bring spies following upon her heels. How was she to escape 
their vigilance? With the fantastical ideas of the uninitiated 
as to the omnipresence and superhuman skill of the police, she 
was at a loss how to ascertain whether she was followed or not. 
She arranged her dress in a somewhat different way from her 
ordinary one, and she issued upon the street at the moment when 
the suspicious-looking man at the corner was paying one of his 
brief visits to the public-house. But who knows? perhaps at that 
window on the other side of the road there was another spy 
standing behind the curtains, who had seen her, and would 
give the signal to his companion as soon as he returned! She 
hastened along the street to escape the phantoms created by 
her own imagination, but they pursued her. What guarantee 
had she that this respectable old lady, going in the same direc- 
tion, was not a spy? Guarantee there was certainly none. 
The old lady turned at the first corner and took the way to 
Nevsky, without so much as once looking at the girl. This 
was all very well, but perhaps it was a stratagem, and the 
would-be spy had given a wink to another to take up the 
pursuit! or, if this was not a spy at all, a real spy, whom she 
had not noticed, might be following her at a distance. 

The poor girl was in a state of utter bewilderment, and was 
losing her head, when it occurred to her that a cousin of hers 
lived in a house on the Liteinaia, which communicated by a 
narrow passage with Mokhovaia Street. Even in the busiest 
time of the day few people used this thoroughfare. At the 
present early hour it must be quite deserted. If she passed 
through with nobody behind her, she might be pretty certain 
to escape these terrible hounds of the Third Section. The 
expedient was so simple, that she wondered it had not occurred 
to her before. She took acab to the Liteinaia, and had the 
satisfaction of ascertaining that no other vehicle followed her. 
As to the foot passengers, she ventured to think that she need not 
trouble herself about them any further. She began ‘to recover 
from her superstitious fears, and to consider what she should do 
next. Her idea was to go to George’s lodgings. The active 
conspirators keep their private addresses very secret, communi- 
cating them asarule only to their colleagues. But George made 
an exception in her case. She knew his address, and had paid 
one or two visits to his den. The general tone of companion- 
ship in the relations between young men and girls in Russia 
allows of such freedom. She would find the house, and reach 


74 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


his rooms without asking any questions ; but would George be 
at home? She promised the cabman a tip, and in ten minutes 
was at the entrance to the wished-for passage. It was not 
quite deserted ; two washerwomen entered it at this moment, 
carrying a large basket of linen. But Tania had recovered 
from her imaginary fears sufficiently to think it unlikely that 
these women would have any connection with the Third 
Section. The rest of the way she went on foot. 

Her ring at the bell was answered almost immediately. 
George was athome. An exclamation of joyful surprise escaped 
him when he recognised his unexpected visitor. 

“What good wind has blown you to my shore, Tatiana 
Grigorievna? My best friends have assembled under my roof 
to-day. You alone were missing.” 

With the volubility of joy he gave no time to Tania to put 
in a single word, and opened the door leading from the hal] to 
the room which was his study, sitting, and dining room in one. 
Andrey was there, and with him a tall fair lady, whom Tania 
did not know. 

She was Lena Zubova, who had just arrived from Switzer- 
land. : 

The two girls were introduced to each other. ‘To account 
for her intrusion among people whom she represented to her- 
self as always transacting important business, Tania explained 
at once the cause of her visit. 

The news of a domiciliary visit at the Repins’ startled them 
all. But when they were told that nothing whatever was found, 
and that he was not arrested, they took the matter lightly. 

“We may congratulate you upon your first political ex- 
perience,” Andrey said. 

“It might have been the last one for us,” George remarked. 

He informed Lena how narrowly they had both escaped 
arrest the night before. 

“Had we remained a few moments longer, we should have 
been caught, as certain as death.” 

“The same thing would have happened had the police 
walked a little faster and arrived a little earlier,” Andrey 
observed. ‘Hach man’s destiny is written in the book of fate, 
and he can’t escape it,” he added, half seriously, half jestingly. 

George said that it was always good for a man to give some 
help to the fates in shaping his destiny. 

They both thanked Tania for having come to warn them. 





TANIA WINS HER SPURS. 75 


Lena was the first to inquire how Tania managed to come 
out of a house that was probably watched. 

“ Are you sure you were not followed here by any one?” 
she asked. 

Tania did not know, but she thought not. 

Then she related frankly her doubts and apprehensions of 
the morning, and the small artifice she had used to throw off 
the scent any possible pursuers. 

Lena clapped her hands. 

“Why, you have done your part splendidly, Tatiana Gri- 
gorievna!” she exclaimed. ‘None of us could have managed 
it better.” 

“Indeed?” said the blushing girl. ‘1 did not suspect it in 
the least.” 

“So much the better,” observed George. “ You have an 
inborn talent for it.” ° 

He was delighted that Tania had given this little proof of 
presence of mind and ability, and was quite happy to see the 
sympathetic regard that it won for her from his two friends. 

After delivering her message, Tania rose to take her leave. 
Her worldly tact suggested to her not to remain longer than 
was necessary. 

George looked at her with blank disappointment. ‘To go 
almost without exchanging a word with him! ‘This was too bad 
of her. Her account of the external side of the incident of the 
night before was all very well for the others, but he wanted 
to know from the dear girl ever so much about her inner im- 
pressions and feelings in that decisive experience. But Tania 
was shy of remaining any longer. 

“You may have some business to atterd to,” she said to 
him, in a confidential whisper ; “I will not stand in your way.” 

“Oh, no; please stay,” George insisted. ‘This is not a 
business meeting. You needn’t hurry away.” 

Andrey repeated the assurance, and joined George in press- 
ing her to stay a little while as she was there. Her father’s 
house was no longer safe, and they were not likely to see her 
for a good while. 

Andrey hardly addressed her at all, leaving her to the 
charge of George. He paid scarcely any attention to her, and 
talked with Lena, whom he asked about Annie Vulitch. He 
seemed altogether engrossed by Lena’s account of the girl, 
which confirmed his own favourable impression. But the con- 


76 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


sciousness of ‘Tania’s presence never left him, giving him a 
quiet pleasure, like what one feels in the sunlight or in the 
beauty of a landscape whilst one is all the time absorbed in 
thoughts that run in a different direction. 

When half-an-hour later Tania rose, saying that her father 
would be uneasy if she stayed too long, Andrey felt as if the 
room had grown darker and something was awanting. 

“What a charming face!” said Lena, when the girl was 
gone. 

Andrey smiled. 

“T don’t know. Ask George’s opinion on that question,” 
he said, pointing in the direction of his friend, who had accom- 
panied his guest downstairs. ‘I am’ not a good judge in 
these matters.” 

It was an excess of modesty on Andrey’s part—on this 
occasion at least, because inwardly he agreed completely with 
Lena. In truth the girl’s face was charming to-day. But what 
had it to do with him after all? 

George returned, and they resumed the conversation which 
Tania’s arrival had interrupted. 

About twelve they were joined by Zina and Vasily Verbitzky, 
who had arrived from Geneva together with Lena. Andrey had 
fulfilled his promise given to both of them to arrange for their 
speedy return. 

Zina was in the height of excitement. Even Vasily’s imper- 
turbable face exhibited some trace of passion. 

** What’s the matter?” George asked. 

This Zina explained by reading them forthwith a letter from 
Dubravnik, full of harrowing details of the ill-treatment of the 
political prisoners, culminating in an unheard-of fact. By 
order of the attorney, a young girl, whose name was given in 
full, had been stripped, in the presence of gaolers and gen- 
darmes, before being locked up, under the pretext that the prison 
regulations prescribed the taking of a precise personal descrip- 
tion of every inmate. 

The news was received in dead silence. The merriment of 
a meeting of friends had vanished. The gloomy spirit of re- 
venge was soaring above them all, and each brooding over the 
same fierce thoughts. 

“This cannot be left unavenged !” 

A terrible example must be made!” exclaimed Lena and 
George, almost simultaneously. 


ae 
er 


See a ee 








TANIA WINS HER SPURS. 77 


Andrey said nothing, because he thought it useless to 
speak about a thing so self-evident. 

“That is exactly what the Dubravnik people seem to have 
resolved,” Zina said. ‘ For they ask us in their letter to lend 
them an experienced woman for keeping a lodging for con- 
spirators. ‘They say also that they require one experienced 
man with a cool head and a steady hand.” 

“J will be their man!” exclaimed Andrey hastily. 

“No,” Vasily interposed in his slow lazy voice; “I told 
Zina before we came here that I am going.” 

This Zina confirmed, adding that it was certainly better 
that Vasily should go. The question of priority was of course 
immaterial, but Andrey had already formed some. business 
relations in St Petersburg, and had started upon the actual 
work. Vasily, on the other hand, was a new man, and as fit as 
one could wish for the Dubravnik business. 

Her opinion settled the matter. 

‘Well, let it be so,” said Andrey. “ But if by chance you 
require somebody else, you have only to send me word.” 

There could be no divided opinion as to the choice of the 
woman who had to go. Zina had already been at Dubravnik ; 
she had all the rights and qualifications on her side. 

Thus both the volunteers needed were chosen. The 
matter had to be laid before the next meeting of the committee, 
with whom the actual decision rested. But this was only a 
formality. ‘They knew beforehand that no objection would be 
made by any one. 

“ By-the-by,” Zina asked, turning to Lena, “ would you like 
to take my place during my absence?” 

Lena answered that she would be very glad to start upon 
some work at once. 

Zina gave her a number of details, which turned out to 
represent a very imposing amount of work »—propaganda among 
the educated youth, propaganda among workmen, and secret 
correspondence with the prisoners in the fortress. 

“‘T don’t know whether I shall be able to manage all this,” 
said Lena hesitatingly ; “‘ especially with the correspondence, 


as I know as yet nothing of what is going on.” 


George promised to take this task off her hands, and 
offered to assist her for a time in her other work. 

“You will soon strike root everywhere,” he said cheerily. 
“To-morrow we will call on a young student friend of mine, a 


78 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


member of one of the clubs; through him you will get to 
know ali the rest. In the other club you have already made 
an acquaintance.” 

cc Who o ”? 

“Tania Repina, whom you have just seen.” 

‘‘ Ah, that’s very pleasant,” Lena said. 

“Has Tania been here? Anything particular?” asked 
Zina. 

In the excitement produced by the Dubravnik news, they 
had all forgotten the little incident of a domiciliary visit to 
Repin, and had not mentioned it to the newcomers. 

Zina was struck by the news, more than the matter seemed 
to justify. 

“Does Repin know the reason for the police visit ?” 

“Not at all. He was told nothing, and is at a loss to 
guess what it came from, just as we all are,” George answered. 

“Then I think I know,” Zina said. 

“Indeed !” 

“Tt is connected with the Dubravnik arrests. There isa 
vague hint in their letter the meaning of which I could not 
find out at first. ‘They mention the arrest of Novakovsky, a 
barrister, with whom Repin was, I think, on friendly terms, 
and they add that I must give warning to ‘ Pandect number 
one.’ I could not make out for whom this nickname was 
intended. NowTI guess they meant Repin. It is always so 
with this overzeal.” 

** But you wouldn’t have had time to forewarn him, even if 
you had guessed rightly,” Andrey said. ‘The order to make 
a visit at Repin’s was evidently given by telegraph. Besides, 
as no harm happened to him we needn’t be much concerned.” 

“That is true. But, I am afraid, the affair may not end 
there. Novakovsky has taken part in serious affairs. This 
may be discovered at any moment, and Repin will be visited 
again, with more serious consequences. We must warn him 
not to be lulled into a false security.” 

As it was unsafe to go to Repin’s house, it was agreed that 
one of them should call on Krivoluzky, and send word through 
him. | 








DP OPR hw TDS LSAT! 5S Wr Ct ied, POG 


ARR! RE DAE dA A BB 


Fa 


f 
: 
rie 
‘ 
a3 
£ 
_ 
i 
. 





= oe, a4 OL {7 
". mt os tO le 
J a7 


CHAPTER VIII. 


REPIN’S MEDITATIONS. 


; ix: and Vasily Verbitzky started in due course for 
Dubravnik, and a few days later a letter was received 
announcing their safe arrival. In ten days another 

letter came from Zina, reporting that the affair was in full swing, 
and that before long ‘‘the account would be settled.” But it 
was not decreed that this account should be settled either 
sooner or later. The long and short of the story is, that the 
attorney who ordered the infamous act, upon receiving the news 
of his death sentence, was seized with such a panic that he at 
once left the town upon furlough, obtained under pretext of 
sudden illness. After a month it transpired that he had left 
the service of the Ministry of Justice altogether. 

‘The Dubravnik people, furious as they were against him, 
had no choice but to let him alone. It is an absolute and 
inviolable law with the terrorists, that from the moment an 
official gets out of the way of his own accord, and ceases to be 
harmful, he is in no case to be struck down for the sake of 
mere revenge. Several cowards have thus escaped the fate 
meted out to them. : 

The body of people brought together for the work of revenge 
did not, however, disband. Since they were there, with head- 
quarters, a service of sentinels, everything else in readiness, it 
was proposed that they should undertake the more arduous en- 
terprise of liberating the three revolutionists—Boris, and his 
two companions Leyshin and Klein—who were awaiting trial 
in the Dubravnik prison. 

Zina wrote to this effect to the St Petersburg people, who 
heartily approved the idea, and promised to support the 
Dubravnik branch with money and, if needful, with men. 

Andrey expected to be summoned to Dubravnik every day, 
but he did not wonder that week after week passed and he was 
still at his old place. It was agreed that Zina, who was super- 








80 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST.. 


intending the preparations, should not ask him to come until 
the moment for decisive action was near, and he knew by ex- 
perience how difficult attempts of this kind are to organise. 
Thus the summer passed without bringing anything particular 
from Dubravnik. 

In St Petersburg the season was as dull as usual. ‘The 
burning heat of the short summer, which is felt the more 
owing to its striking contrast with the rest of the year, drives 
away from the suffocating and miasmic town all who have 
the means to get a breath of fresh air. The summer season 
is that in which all Russia, both labouring and intellectual, 
hasten to the green fields, either for work or for repose. This 
produces a universal lessening of tension in all branches of the 
intellectual and social life of the city. Rebellion, like every- 
thing else, slumbers during the hot season, its combustible 
elements being scattered far and wide through the land. 

The summer in which occurred the events described in these 
pages was less inactive than usual, owing chiefly to the ex- 
tension of the propaganda among workmen, of whom there are 
always plenty in the capital both in summer and in winter. 

It was to this work that Andrey devoted himself with his 
whole energy, as long as his services were not required elsewhere. 
A considerable part of his activity in former days had been 
devoted to propaganda. among workmen. He had many 
acquaintances in their ranks, some of whom were still in town, 
and welcomed him as an old friend. Ina fortnight Andrey had 
grown familiar with his work and with his men. The working 
people liked him for his earnest simplicity and thorough- 
ness, and listened with pleasure to his sober unadorned dis- 
courses. On his part, Andrey felt himself quite at home with 
them, and the propaganda among them was the work he pre- 
ferred. In this he was the exact antithesis to George, who 
found a more congenial sphere among students and educated 
people, where his brilliant qualities produced their best effect. 

It was a bright Sunday afternoon in the first half of August, 
Andrey was returning from a meeting of workmen of the Vyborg 
district, which was under his special charge. On reaching the 
Liteiny bridge he looked at his. nickel watch. It was six 
o’clock, and he began to ponder within himself whether he 
should cross the Neva and return to his lodgings, or catch an 
omnibus which would bring him in an hour almost to the door 
of Repin’s summer residence on the Black River. The time 








‘9 
: 
9 
' 
ia 
i 
: 4 
H 
: 
ie 


ws 
’ 


REPIN’S MEDITATIONS. : 81 


and the day were convenient for a visit. Still he had some 
scruples about yielding to his ardent desireto go. He had been 


to Repin’s twice during the last week, and it was decidedly more 


prudent not to go so soon again. ‘The cloud which seemed to 
gather over Repin’s head two months ago had passed away. 
Novakovsky had been released, as the Dubravnik police fortun- 


ately had not discovered his compromising connections. Repin 


was not troubled any further, and his house was as safe as the 
house of a Russian can be. 

But visits of “illegal” people constitute a danger in them- 
selves, and must not be repeated too often. 

Andrey resolved that he would be virtuous, and go home, 
though his room appeared to him at this moment very lonesome 
and dreary. He went towards the bridge, and even crossed the 
river, thinking out carefully what he would do when he reached 
home. But this was mere hypocrisy, for he knew that he was 
not going home. When, on reaching the end of the bridge, he 
saw the Black River omnibus coming towards him, and one free 
place at the back opposite the guard’s seat, he hastily secured 
it, saying very judiciously to himself that as it was Sunday the 
next omnibuses might be crammed full. 

One must not be over-suspicious ; it spoils the temper, he 
thought. In suburban districts the police are so careless, the 
watch so loose, and life so easy. One visit more can’t matter 
much, especially on a Sunday, when guests from town are 
always expected. 

The meeting Andrey had just left had been a very success- 
ful one. A new section had been reported in one of the biggest 
factories of the neighbourhood. ‘The prospect was bright, and 
he was disposed to look upon everything with the eyes of an 
optimist. 

Through the open window he could see the passengers 
packed together like herrings in a barrel, the children sitting 
on their elders’ knees. Most of them were in their Sunday 
clothes, and a certain holiday air was upon their faces. Clerks, 
small tradesmen, and petty officials, unable to afford the luxury 
of a summer residence out of town, were taking advantage of 
the fine weather for a trip. Andrey remembered that on 
Sundays there was music in the park in the evenings. ‘Tania 
would want somebody to keep her company, as her father 
worked in the evenings. If Krivoluzky did not unfortunately 
drop in, they would spend a delightful evening. 

F 





82 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


Since they first met two months ago, hardly a week had 
passed without his seeing Tania,—first by mere chance, then 
by combinations too happy to be entirely fortuitous. After 
the Repins moved to the Black River they met very frequently. 
The comparative freedom of the inhabitants of these summer 
resorts from the police, allowed of the dropping something of 
the rigid observances of ordinary town life. Most of his free 
evenings Andrey spent either at the Repins’ house or at Lena 
Zubova’s. She had taken a small room in the neighbourhood 
for the summer months, and Tania was frequently her guest. 
Thus Andrey saw a great deal of the girl. 

He was so much her senior by virtue of his experience in 
life, that this girl of nineteen seemed to him almost a child. 
But there was an affinity in their tastes, in the bent of their 
minds, and in an almost intuitive mutual understanding, which 
rendered companionship with her exceedingly fascinating to 
him. He had no apprehension that this intimacy with a 
charming girl would ever imperil his peace of mind. As to 
her, that was out of the question ; he had nothing about him 
to captivate the fancy. Many women “liked him very much,” 
but they always married somebody else. This was his fate, 
and he cheerfully made up his mind to it. A woman’s love is 
a great, but dangerous blessing ; a conspirator had better to do 
without it. 

As to Tania, she was loved by George,—who was to him 
more than a brother; and at first he believed that Tania loved 
George in return. This excluded all possibility of looking 
upon her otherwise than as a sister. Later on, he began to 
be in doubt about Tania’s feelings towards his friend. But a 
bond of brotherly ease and frankness between them had 
become established, and grew stronger as they learned to know 
each other better. He liked to watch the growth and burgeon- 
ing out of a young beautiful soul with its impetuous yearn- 
ings and timid hesitations, its petulance and its despondencies. 

To this and to no stronger feeling he ascribed the almost 
painful longing to see her, the sadness which overcame him’ 
when some untoward obstacle deprived him of this pleasure, 
and the constant drift of his thought to the same channel, 
that of late had surprised, but not alarmed him. And, strangely, 
it was the contemplation of the love of another that did 
most to keep him blind to his own. His sober appreciation of 
the girl contrasted so strikingly with the exaltation of his 





REPIN’S MEDITATIONS. 83 


friend, that it seemed impossible that they should both be 
under the sway of the same feeling. 

George was a rarer visitor to the Black River than Andrey. 
He was very busy with his writing, as most of the staff were 
out of the town. But Andrey expected him this Sunday, as 
he had not been seen anywhere during the week. 

On entering Reépin’s pretty wooden cottage, adorned with 
carvings in the Russian style, Andrey found the lawyer alone. 
Tania was out. He was told that Lena had called after 
dinner, whilst George waited in the park, and had taken Tania 
out for a walk. ‘They were not expected to be back till late 
in the evening. Sorely disappointed, Andrey was about to > 
leave ; but his host detained him. 

“Take a little rest, and smoke a cigar. I am taking my 
holiday now.” 

A freshly-published yellow magazine lay before him, an 
ivory paper-knife between the sheets. He cut them as he 
read. 

“ Where have you come from, and what is the news in 
your part of the world?” Repin asked. ‘“ Are we going to 
be blown up, and have you been fixing the fuse ?” | 

“Nothing so frightful as that,” Andrey replied. ‘I have 
been at our working men’s meeting.” 

“Indeed. Are you doing much in that line?” Repin 
inquired, 

, ** Ves, especially this last year.” 
Repin looked much interested. 

“And you find that your efforts are bearing some fruit ?” j 
he asked, in a tone of doubt. if 

of Certainly,” said Andrey; ‘‘ why should we do it other-"\, 
wise ?” \ 
‘Oh, people often persist most in things that are fruitless,” \ 
Repin rejoined. 

A nobleman by birth, educated as a member of a slave- 
owning caste, Repin shared with the best men of his genera- 
tion the prejudice that the abyss dividing the educated people 
from the toiling masses is impassable. In his practice as 
counsel in political trials, Repin met several workmen and 
peasants who fraternised completely with their educated 
brethren. This struck him as something entirely new. But 
one swallow, or even half-a-dozen swallows, don’t make a 
summer. He was as incredulous as ever, and was glad of an 





55ST SO EARS AI em A EANA TAH TA NAA Wo A) SRN SN 
‘ 
4 . . Pr —— — ears 
4 " —* . , 


i, ay 
a Sy 


84 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


opportunity to hear something more upon the question from a 
man who presumably knew the ins and outs of it. 

He listened to Andrey with grave attention, nodding his 
grey head in sign of assent. 

“Yes, it is a good beginning,” he said at the end, “and 
the most hopeful side of your work ; the only one, in fact, of 
which I unconditionally approve. I am very much obliged to 
you for this information.” 

They had often discussed various revolutionary and political 
matters. Of all the friends of his daughter who frequented 
their house, the old lawyer liked Andrey the best, and talked 
with him very willingly. They could never agree, of course. 
But they hurt each other less, and they understood each other 
better, than the rest, Andrey’s character making up.somewhat 
for their great disparity of age. 

‘“‘ Now I must be going,” said Andrey, rising. “Tll take a 
run through the park; perhaps I shall come across them. 
At all events my greeting to Tatiana Grigorievna.” 

He left hurriedly. 

When Repin was alone, he reopened the book to resume 
his reading. But he could not read that night. His own 
thoughts and cares filled his mind, rendering him unable to 
follow those of the author. He was thinking about his 
daughter, and the tragic dilemma in which her evident leaning 
towards the revolution placed him. 

Repin was not a partisan of the revolution as it was at that 
time. A man of a much earlier epoch, he was a warm 
adherent and active supporter of the great liberal movement of 
1860 associated with the name of Herzen. He remained 
faithful to its. traditions. When the revolutionists resolutely 
attacked the political despotism of their country, he could not 
help recognising in them the champions of his own doctrine. 
Though he was too old to share their hopefulness, or to approve 
their reckless means, he did not consider this sufficient 
ground for avoiding all the responsibilities and burdens of the 
impending struggle. He had seen too much of the horrors of 
despotism, not to feel that the wildest form of retaliation was 
natural, excusable, and even morally justifiable. He felt 
neither hatred nor abhorrence for those in whom considera- 
tions of political expediency did not check the impulses of 
temperament. Indeed, he could not help feeling a certain 
respect for them. 








REPIN’S MEDITATIONS. 85 


One important event which had happened three years ago 
did much to give consistency to his vague sympathies. Repin 
had been asked to appear for the defence in one of the early 
political trials, when political offenders were still allowed 

counsellors to defend them. Here he became acquainted with 

his client Zina Lomova, a bright accomplished girl of twenty, 
and with several of her companions. His theoretical leanings 
were strengthened by the warm personal sympathy which he 
felt with these good and courageous young people. When, 
eight months after the Draconian sentence, which he con- 
sidered most iniquitous, Zina escaped, and: paid him an un- 
expected visit at his St Petersburg residence, he received her 
with open arms, and offered her shelter and everything she 
needed. Zina in fact spent several days in his house, until 
with Repin’s assistance she was put into communication with 
such of her former companions as were living in the capital as 
* illegal” people. 

Through Zina the Repins became acquainted amongst 
others with Boris Maevsky, whom she married soon after. 
The barrister’s house was the rallying-point of all that was 
most intellectual in society, and there was no better place 
where, in the absence of a free press, conspirators could 
gather something as to the views and feelings of those who 
best represented the public opinion of St Petersburg. 

Some of them struck up friendship with his daughter, whom 
they evidently singled out as a future member of their brother- 
hood. 

The old barrister was far-seeing enough to fear that their 
expectation was well founded, and that the day was approach- 
ing when his beloved child would be hurled into the bottom- 
less abyss that swallowed up so many victims. He would 
have given his life to save her, but he did not see how to do it. 
Prohibit her from seeing the conspirators, and try to prevent 
any intercourse with them? But it was as morally impossible 
for him to force her to shun these people, as to refuse them 
assistance himself because this might bring him one day into 
trouble with the police. Besides, what was the use of pro- 
hibitions and artificial seclusion, when the contagion was in 
the air? Many a parent had tried this desperate course, and 
with what result? They saw their children rebel against their 
authority, and break from them in enmity and scorn. No, let 
the worst come to the worst, his daughter should never look 





86 ‘THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 







upon him as an enemy. ‘He imposed no restraint u 
freedom, relying upon the moral influence he had ac 
over her to keep her from a step which he considered bo 
reckless and hopeless. For a time he flattered himself that h 
was successfully keeping her within bounds, and c 
balancing the external influence upon her. But of late h 
noticed a change that made him uneasy. He feared th 
fatal moment he dreaded was drawing near, and now, as 
before the open volume, his soul ached with the e dul gr 

ae of Lise canis 


0 s 


BIR ASS PE 








Z A A 0 FA PT NS RR 
erm 


CHAPTER IX. 


A NEW CONVERT. 


NDREY changed his mind, resolving that it was better 

A to go straight to Lena’s rooms instead of rambling 

through the park after his friends. They would pro- 

bably return home for supper, if they were not already there. 

He was sure that they were, and he hastened his steps, not to 
lose one moment of the anticipated pleasure. 

But this was a day of disappointment. ‘They were not in, 
and had said nothing as to the time of their return. Still he 
resolved to take his chance and ‘wait. 

Lena had a good-sized room in the upper floor, scantily 
furnished, but pleasantly situated. A big acacia overhung the 
window, its delicate leaves floating in the motionless air. 

Andrey opened the window, letting in a fresh fragrance 
from the garden and field below. The cottage stood on the 
outskirts of the village. Behind it was a vast plain, sprinkled 
with a few bushes, and crossed by a narrow by-road leading to 
a cluster of houses, which made a very picturesque effect 
against the light green of a small birch grove. The white 
nights of the St Petersburg midsummer had already passed 
away, but the evening twilights were clear and long. 

Andrey had not waited more than a quarter of an hour 
when the door below slammed, and he heard upon the stairs 
George’s laughter, and then a voice which set his heart beating 
strongly. 

Tania looked charming with her dark cheeks slightly 
coloured by walking and a wreath of blue-bells in her hair. 
She was dressed in a light blouse of yellow unbleached silk, 
enfolding softly and caressingly her supple figure. In her left 
hand she held swinging her large trimmed straw hat, which she 
had taken off when heated by her long walk. 

Andrey rose to meet her with a happy smile. The 


pleasure of seeing her was doubled to him after his fear of 


missing her altogether. 


88 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


*“ You’ve had a good walk, I see,” he said, looking at her 
flushed face. 

“Yes,” she answered, throwing herself into an arm-chair, 
“we enjoyed it very much, and George amused us so with his 
stories. It is a pity you did not come earlier.” 

“For the sake of his stories? But perhaps I have already 
heard them. ‘That’s a common occurrence with old friends 
like us, when they often go together into society.” 

He turned to George. 

“And how are you, old boy?” he asked. “It is such a 
long time since I have seen you. Ina paroxysm of creation, 
I suppose ? ” 

“T’ve been grinding at copy all the time, if you mean 
that,” George answered. 

“And now you are celebrating the crowning of the edifice, 
I presume ?” 

“Yes, I have done my work for this month,” George 
answered, ‘‘and I celebrate my temporary release, a pleasure 
which only those who have to work at a literary treadmill can 
fully appreciate.” 

Tania, who was stretching her limbs lazily in the chair, 
turned towards the speakers, leaning both her elbows upon the 
arm of the chair. 

“What a grumbler you are, George,” she said; “I think 
you have less reason than anybody for complaining of your 
fate.” 

“Indeed !” the young man exclaimed, “ I never suspected 
that. Please tell me why I am so fortunate. I promise before- 
hand to do the best I can to agree with you. It will be so 
consoling.” 

At this moment Lena opened the door, bringing in the tea 
things. She was closely followed by the housemaid with a 
samovar. 

With the assistance of the guests the table was at once 
cleared of the books and papers encumbering it, the cloth was 
spread, and everything made ready. 

“Tania, dear,” said Lena, “will you preside at the tea? 
In my quality of mistress I shall have to entertain my guests 
with pleasant conversation, which is a sufficient burden in 
itself.” 

She took possession of the arm-chair which Tania had left 
vacant, and lighting a cigarette began to smoke in the window, 














tm 9 SR A FA AG NA My | ALI Mee Re Oe ee EE ——— = 


‘A NEW CONVERT. | 89 


paying no attention, to her guests, who, she thought, would be 
best amused if left to themselves. 

“ Well, Tatiana Grigorievna, you are keeping me in sus- 
pense. You have not yet answered my question,” said George, 
when the household bustle was over. 

“What question ?” Lena inquired. 

“Why I am the happiest of mortals,” George explained. 

“Oh, are you? I did not know that,” said Lena. | 

“You are distorting my words, George,” said Tania; “I 
merely said you ought not to complain against your fate.” 

“And why, if you please, should I be deprived of this 
common consolation of my fellowmen ?” 

““Why?” Tania drawled in a tone signifying that he must 
know why well enough himself. 

“‘ Because,” she put in quickly, remembering something to 
the point, “you told me once that when you felt depressed you 
have only to turn it into verse, and all is well.” | 

Tania laughed. George, she thought, had been fishing for 
a compliment by his assumed dulness, and she was glad to 
disappoint him by a little hit. 

“J did not know you could be so malicious, Tatiana 
Grigorievna,” George said. ‘Next time I will be more 
cautious, and show you only the obverse side of my trade.” 

He remembered very well the conversation to which Tania 
alluded. It was on the occasion of the publication of a small 
volume of his poems, which made a stir amongst his set. 
Tania was exceedingly moved by them, and they had a talk 
about artistic emotions, though, of course, he had not said 
exactly what she attributed to him. The girl had twisted his 
words on purpose to pay him out, But he was shy of speaking 
about these recollections, and did not correct her. 

Lena, who was listening to them whilst she smoked, put 
down her cigarette. She was interested in the moral side of 
the question. 

“TJ think,” she said, “ that those who are truly devoted to a 
great cause will be quite indifferent whether their part in it is 
small or great, brilliant or obscure. To aspire to play a big 
part is nothing but paltry ambition and egotism under another 
form.” 

Tania protested she did not mean the seeking after a 
prominent position, but only the enjoyment of it when it 
comes unbidden. 


go THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


‘But do you not think,” Andrey said, in support of Lena’s 
views, “‘you can so completely assimilate yourself with a great 
cause as to have no room, no desire, almost no time, for 
thinking about your individual self, or for pondering upon the 
respective share you and your friends have had in the work ?” 

“No,” Tania answered, after a pause, shaking her head, 
“T am not up to that level. I am afraid I shall never be. 
The knowledge of my insignificance would gnaw at me, and I 
should envy those better endowed than myself. It must be 
such a delight and pride to feel that you have something 
valuable of your own to add to a great work.” 

She looked at George. It was merely a look asking for 
support, as he was the only one present who did not speak 
against her. But Andrey, who saw this look, interpreted it 
otherwise. He was about to insist upon the view he had 
expressed before, following the mechanical impulse of his 
habitual mode of thinking. But he could not say a word, 
checked by the consciousness that if he spoke he would utter 
a lie. At this moment he felt that he also envied in his heart 
those endowed for no merit of their own with the power of 
swaying other men’s minds. The sense of his mediocrity 
hurt him with a bitter mortification he had never known 
before. He was unable to resist it, and remained silent. 

The short pause in the conversation, to which the rest paid 
no attention, seemed to him painfully long and wearisome. 

“‘ Look, Andrey, how beautiful is the white group_of houses 
yonder in the red light of the sunset,” said Lena, from her 
place at the window, “it reminds me of the Alpine glow on 
the Swiss mountains.” 

Andrey was glad of this change of subject, which relieved: 
him from perplexity, and he approached the window. 

“Yes, it is very beautiful,” he said, looking over the 
landscape with the strained attention of a boy trying to impress 
upon his memory the configuration of the map he will be 
questioned upon. The sight to which Lena drew his attention 
was beautiful; the blue vault of the sky, in which the pale 
figure of the half-grown moon was hardly perceptible, as if 
delicately painted upon it in faint water-colour; the cluster of 
white houses glowing in the rosy light against the green of the 
birch grove; the vanishing sunlight, tipping with gold the 
edges of the feathery clouds, and deepening upon the line of 
the horizon into a blazing purple. 





HI EW APA TS NA 





A NEW CONVERT. gI 


But Andrey’s perceptive faculties were benumbed, and he 
turned to look at his companions talking at the tea-table. 

Tania had dropped the wreath of bluebells from her hair, 
and George had picked it up, entreating her to put it back 
again because it suited her so wonderfully. The girl laughed 
and blushed, but she did as she was bid, and Andrey felt 
exceedingly displeased both with her and with George for such 
foolishness. 

“ By-the-by,” said Lena, interrupting Andrey’s sullen medi- 
tations, ‘I have something to ask you.’ 

She drew a chair for him, and invited him in a business- like 
way to sit down. 

‘Will you be able,” she proceeded, ‘‘to spare one or two 
evenings a week to assist me in my work ?” 

“What work?” Andrey asked, rousing himself. 

“ At the young people’s clubs. We want you to come 
and speak to them occasionally. I think you'll do it very 
well.” 

“1! Of what use can I be there? You know I am not 
fit for this work and should cut a poor figure. You should 
ask George, who will do ever so much better.” 

“T also thought he would be better,” Lena said frankly, 
*‘and I have tried him already; but he says he is too busy, 
and has not a single evening to spare.” 

Perfect frankness, and even rudeness if needful, is the rule 
in the mutual dealings among fellow-conspirators, especially in 
matters connected with “business.” There was nothing in 
Lena’s remark which Andrey would not have said to her under 
similar circumstances; but he was decidedly out of temper 
to-night. 

“Then you want me as padding to fill up the gap some- 
how?” he said, crossly. 

Lena made a movement of impatience. 

“Don’t talk nonsense, Andrey,” she exclaimed. ‘ Answer 
plainly, have you time to spare or not?” 

“T am very busy myself with my workmen, you know,” 
Andrey answered, still sulkily. ‘“‘ But tell me,” he added, trying 
to be more conciliatory and business-like, “‘ why should you not 
go on without me, as well as you did before?” 

“TI wish we could,” Lena answered. “But some of our 
people have been involved in the recent arrests, Myrtov 
among the rest.” 





Si ee 


92 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“Oh, I see!” Andrey exclaimed, changing his tone. ‘‘ Was’ 


this Myrtov a member of your group?” 

Lena nodded. 

“‘T never came across him,” Andrey went on, “ but I have 
heard how he was arrested. Judging from that he must have 
been a wonderfully fine fellow. Have you any idea what is 

likely to happen to him?” 

'  “Tmpossible to tell,” said Lena. ‘It will depend entirely 
on the gendarmes’ caprice. His is an altogether exceptional 
case.” 

Then raising a little her voice, she asked George, who was 
talking with Tania, whether he had heard anything fresh from 
the fortress concerning Myrtov’s affair. 

“We had a few lines from him,” George answered. “ His 
prospects are much worse than we expected. The police 
found upon his writing-desk a manuscript article intended for 
secret printing, and a large quantity of our papers in his room 
ready for distribution. I am afraid he is a doomed man.” 

‘Who is this Myrtov?” inquired Tania in a whisper. 

“A very quiet young student,” said George. “He was 
arrested on Monday last by mistake instead of Taras. You 
know, I suppose, who Taras is?” 

“Yes, of course I do,” Tania answered. 

Taras Kostrov was one of the most gifted and popular 
among the leaders of the revolution. 

‘Well, Taras, under the name of Zachary Volkov, landowner 
of Kassimoy, took lodgings in the same house in which Myrtov 
lived. But when he sent his passport to the district office for 
registration, the police had some suspicion as to the authenticity 
of the supposed Zachary Volkov. A domiciliary search was 
ordered. The police came on Monday in the night, but they mis- 
took the doors and rang the bell at Myrtov’s, who lived on the 
fourth floor, whilst Taras’s flat was one storey higher. Myrtov 
was not yet in bed, as he was just writing that unfortunate article. 
He opened the door himself, and when asked by the. police 
whether he was Zachary Volkov he understood in a moment 
what all this meant, and resolved to save Taras by sacrificing 
himself. He answered in the affirmative, and the police came 
in, found everything, and he was forthwith arrested and taken 
to the fortress.” | 

“ And Taras was saved?” asked Tania in excitement. 

“Yes. All the lodgers learned in the morning, through the 





Ak AA JONES AARC) OI MY Be LBS 





l 
: 
: 

L 


A NEW CONVERT. 93 


servants, after whom the gendarmes had inquired at the porter’s 
lodge. ‘Taras did not wait, of course, for the police to correct 
their blunder.” 

“But how about Myrtov?” Tania asked. ‘“ Have they 
found him out?” 

“They have, and very soon. He took the precaution not 
to keep any of the letters sent to him by any one. But on 
examining the books seized at his room, the gendarmes found 
on the fly-leaf of one of them his name in full, Vladimir Myrtov. 
They concluded that this must be some friend of the prisoner 
who had lent him this book, and a new order for a domiciliary 
search at Vladimir Myrtov’s was issued. Of course when the 
gendarmes came, they discovered that the man they sought had 
already been arrested by them two days ago in mistake for 
another, who had in the meantime got away.” 

“‘What did they do then?” Tania asked again. 

‘“What had they to do,” George answered, “but to vent 
their baffled rage upon the man they had in their clutches? 
They could not discover who lived under Zachary Volkov’s 
name, but they could well guess that they had let slip from 
their hands somebody of importance. Myrtov knew what he 
had to expect, and no man would sacrifice his own life to save 
a nobody.” 

“Were they very close friends i ” ‘Tania Eakeds 

“Who?” 

** Myrtov and Taras?” 

““No. Not particularly. They were merely acquaintances. 


Ey 


Myrtov, whom I knew slightly, even disliked Taras personally | 


for his dictatorial ways. His act of self-immolation was due 
to no personal feelings. ‘That is why it is so great!” George 
concluded, his voice vibrating with admiration. 

A solemn silence succeeded, such as expresses emotions of 
souls tuned to the highest pitch better than any words. Andrey, 
Lena, and George were all under the spell of this act of devo- 
tion, exceptional even in the annals of their party. All fora 
moment were overcome by the various feelings it called forth,— 
sorrow for the untimely loss of such a man, admiration at his 
deed, pride in the party which enlisted men who were equal 
to any sacrifice for it. 

But for Tania it was something more. For her it was 
one of those incidents which, happening at the cross-roads of 
life, decide which path a man will take. Since she had made 








94 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


the acquaintance of Zina and then of George, Tania had been 
a sincere and warm sympathiser with their cause. But there 
is an abyss between a sympathiser willing to do something, 
occasionally screwing his courage up to do much for the 
cause he sympathises with, and an actual votary ready to go for 
it to any length of sacrifice because he cannot help it. ‘This 
abyss had not been bridged over for Tania. Hitherto she had 
been on the other side of it, in the land of the Philistines. She 
would have remained there, had she before this day been 
sheltered from all further intercourse with that world in which 
she had lived so much of late. Her soul had not yet known 
for one moment those deep sweeping emotions, after which no 
relapse is possible into the shallow ways of the Philistines, with 
their timidity, half-heartedness, and sterility. 

An event or a book, a living word or a stirring example, a 
sorrowful tale of the present or a radiant glimpse of the future— 
anything may be the instrument to bring about this momentous 
crisis. ‘To some it may come with a violent shock, throwing 
into convulsions the whole of their moral nature; to others, 
the heart’s deepest springs will be opened, as in sleep, by a 
delicate touch of a friendly hand. But all those who have 
pledged themselves for life and for death to any great cause 
whatsoever, must pass through such a moment of moments, for 
no amount of accumulated impressions can take the place of 
this one vivifying touch. 

Such a crisis had come to Tania now. It was a moment 
which came and passed like a gust of wind. When George 
concluded his tale, and she realised it fully, she felt her heart 
swelling with a piercing, overwhelming pity. It was as if she 
had outgrown in an instant her girlhood and womanhood, her 
motherly instincts reaching their maturity within her maiden 
breast, and this young man, whom she had never seen, had 
been her own child, torn by cruel enemies from her arms. A 
flush rose to her brow, a rapid something which she had not 
time to analyse, but which she felt with some surprise was 
neither hatred nor revenge, sent a flash of light into her eyes, 
and all was over. The great deed was done. Here, in this 
out-of-the-way corner of the town, in this poor room, the echo 
of a noble act had riveted for ever a new heart to the same 
great cause. 

When the girl spoke, she made no solemn vows, no 
emphatic declarations. She could not have done anything 


———— ee 











ie aera en eee 





a i 
Pmt ase Ske 
awe Fa ‘a A 


A NEW CONVERT. 95 


of the kind, even if she had not been so naturally averse from 
everything that had a shadow of ostentation. Neither in this 
hour, nor in the long years of heroic exertion and suffering 
which awaited her in the future, could she have told that her 
conversion to the cause took place at that precise moment. 
She did not herself realise what had passed in her heart, and 
the rapid emotion which filled her found an expression very 
strange and awkward. 

“T see nothing particularly great in what Myrtov did,” 
she said, in a low trembling voice, ashamed at her own pre- 
sumption. 

George cast at her a glance of questioning surprise. 

** Between a man who is of great value for the cause, and 
another who knows himself to be of small value, the choice is 
clear,” Tania said, without lifting her eyes from the table. 
**Myrtov has done only what was right. That is all.” 

Lena nodded approvingly. As for herself she fully agreed 
with Tania. 

George looked at her in wonder. Never had he expected 
such words from Tania, he who fancied he knew her so well. 

** Would you have done the same in similar circumstances ? ” 
he asked, in a faltering voice. 

“Tf I had been ready-witted enough—yes,” Tania answered 
unhesitatingly, looking him in the face. 

She had just before answered that question to herself. 
That was what had called forth her first strange observation 
upon Myrtov’s conduct. Now she merely repeated it aloud; 
and she relapsed into thought again, her shapely head resting 
upon her hand, her eyes looking dreamily out beneath her 
radiant brow. 

Andrey, who could not turn away his eyes from her, said 
to himself that she was terribly beautiful at that moment ; 
and a tremor went through him, as at the approach of some 
calamity. But why this sudden angry contraction of his 
face? It was caused by that insupportable George, who was 
unable to forget his courtship even at a moment so unsuitable 
for it. 

“If moral strength has any value,” George began, in an 
agitated voice, ‘‘the best and the greatest of our men would 
be a presumptuous fool if he knowingly accepted such an 
exchange... .” 

He was greatly excited, and he spoke with his soul on his 





96 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


lips. But Andrey had wronged his friend in giving to his words 
such a frivolous interpretation. At this moment George was 
quite unable to think of the girl otherwise than as a dear 
comrade. It was the unveiling of a beautiful soul that he was 
hailing, and the things’he said to her were substantially quite 
true, though he put them, as was his wont, in too strong 
words. . 

As to Tania, this effervescent eloquence, instead of intoxi- 
cating, cooled her head completely. George’s exaggerations 
awakened her keen sense of humour, and a joke upon the 
untimeliness of his oration was at the tip of her tongue. But 
looking at George’s face, she rebuked herself for the ungenerous 
thought, and felt more kindly to him. 

She stretched out her hand, and gave his a frank shake. 

“You are very good, George; but let us drop the subject,” 
she said. 

““What is the matter with you?” said Lena at-the same 
moment to her neighbour. ‘“ You look so pale.” 

“Do I?” Andrey stammered. “It is probably the effect 
of the green reflection of the tree at the window.” 

But it was not the effect of the green shadow of the tree ; 
this only helped him to conceal the ghastly paleness of his 
face. It was at this very moment that a pang of jealousy tore 
away the scales covering his eyes. He saw, as by a lightning 
flash, what had been at the bottom of his attachment to Tania 
since the first day of their acquaintance. He loved this 
charming girl, loved her face, her blouse, the very bit of floor 
she was standing upon. And at the same moment a madden- 
ing conviction pierced his heart like a knife: that if she should © 
ever love anybody, it would be this glib-tongued flatterer, who 
at this moment was positively hateful to him. A fit of furious 
irrepressible jealousy made his head swim. It required a 
desperate effort to keep his seat and to maintain his self- 
control. He was afraid he should betray himself if this lasted 
much longer. 

“T must go!” he said, in a stifled voice. 

The room felt suffocating. 

“Ts it so late?” Tania asked innocently. 

She pulled out her elegant little watch, and said she would 
go too. 

“Will you accompany me home?” she said, addressing 
both himself and George. 











A NEW CONVERT. 97 


' Andrey bowed in silence. Certainly he would accompany 
her. He wanted to be with her, and to hear her talk with 
George. ‘There was within him a raging thirst for self-torture, 
a delight in plunging, inch by inch, the weapon into his wound. 
For worlds he would not have foregone this grim satisfaction. 
And he could not, if he would. His independence was gone. 
He was no longer himself. Her black eyes dragged him after 
them. He could not part from her so long as she would 
allow him to stay. 

George talked with Tania all the way, but Andrey havc 
opened his mouth. 

Every word George said vexed him exceedingly. After-the 
girl’s rebuke, George did not openly resume his flattery. But 
there was flattery in his tone, in- his looks, in his gestures, 
which was quite as distasteful to Andrey. 

They shook hands with Tania at the door and turned 
homeward. As it was not late, George proposed they should 
walk in order to enjoy the splendid night. 

Andrey consented. It was utterly indifferent to him. 

“Was I not right when I said ” George began, driving 
evidently at his usual theme. 

“Let! it alone, please,” Andrey interrupted; ‘‘I am tired 
of it.” 

He relapsed into sulky silence, answering George’s questions 
by short monosyllables. He was angry, low-spirited, miserable. 
His fatal discovery placed him in a new attitude towards George, 
which was most painful to him. 

George’s conduct seemed abominable. Andrey did not 
believe at all in the seriousness of George’s attachment to 
Tania. How could he love a girl whom he had not so much 
as taken the trouble to understand ? _ It was all empty inflation, 
fireworks, begotten of his superabundant poetical imagination. 
George would have done much better to confine these out- 
pourings to pen and paper, instead of drumming them in the ear 
of a young and inexperienced girl. 

All this Andrey would have said to his friend the day 
before, had he then been able to see matters clearly. But 
now, after the discovery of his own. disgraceful entanglement, 
to speak in this strain was no longer possible. He had to 
keep his counsel, and to show a deceitful countenance. ‘Their 
relations, which for so long a time had been so frank and free 
from any stain of deceit, were now tainted with irremovable 

G 





98 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


duplicity. To keep henceforward-on such terms with his inti- » 


mate friend was more painful than to break altogether. 
At length they had to part. 


“ T’]] call on you to-morrow morning,” said George. ‘Be 
y 8) g 


at home. I want to read to you some new things of mine.” 

‘‘A hymn in Tania’s praises, I bet,” was Andrey’s first 
thought, but he answered with an effort, 

‘“‘Can’t you send it to the printers at once ?” 

This was too much. George was hurt at his most sensitive 
point, and the square wrinkles appeared under his felt hat. 

*“Of course I can’t, or at least I won’t,” he said, in a half- 
offended, half-surprisedtone. ‘I never trust my own judgment 
about my things.” 

“Well, until to-morrow then,” said Andrey. 

It was to some extent a business matter, which it was his 
duty to attend to, if George thought him necessary for it. 

“What is the matter with Andrey to-night?” George asked 
himself, as he made his way home. “I never saw him in such 
a state.” 

Had he applied his quick mind to putting together certain 
signs and hints, he would probably have found out the truth ; 
but to-night, his soul was too full of hope and ecstatical admira- 
tion for him to plunge into any analytical researches. ‘Tania’s 
words still rang in his ears, with the tone, the face, the pose, in 
which she had uttered them. Now he thoroughly understood 
what lay behind those words, and he was dazzled at what he 
saw, and penitent for having presumed that he would have to 
guide such a girl into the way of self-oblivion and devotion to a 
greatcause. He,aclod of earth compared with her! It seemed 
to him that only to-night he knew what love for a woman is like. 
He was full of it, and he let himself loose, plunging into that 
enchanting world of dreams, beautiful as youth and fascinating 
as reality, above which was enthroned the black-eyed girl, leaning 
dreamily her radiant brow upon her bare hand. 

The beloved image smiled hope to him. The hand she 
stretched out to him gave a warm affectionate pressure. Who 
knows whether, not to-day, but in good time, she may not have 
something deeper as answer to his devotion. Why should he 
any longer keep silent about his feelings? He had hesitated 
long enough. But was he not sure of himself now, when all 
his soul was one breath of love and enthusiasm to her? 

He resolved to speak out when they next met. 

















Grmoarit & Rx 
GEORGE'S VERSES. 


HE next morning George was seated in his friend’s 
| room, with a bundle of manuscript in his pocket. 
Andrey had slept upon, or more accurately had re- 
mained awake upon, his vexation. He looked worried, but 
self-possessed. He received his visitor in his usual manner, 
even adding certain little attentions not commonly observed in 
the easy and simple ways of the Russians. The unsuspecting 
George ascribed this to Andrey’s desire to make amends for 
yesterday’s ill-humour. 

In his night’s review of his inner life, caused by the new 
position his folly had created for him, Andrey had made up 
his mind upon the question of his relations with George. With 
this secret in his breast, he could not remain on the old footing 
with George ; that would be base on his part. As to making 
a clean breast of it, Andrey would rather have bitten off 
his tongue. Since it was impossible to speak out, the only 
alternative left him was to give up his intimacy with George, 
and to be with him henceforward simply on terms of comrade- 
ship. ‘This was exceedingly unpleasant to Andrey ; but, since 
it could not be helped, so must it be. George was his only 
friend, as friendship is understood in the world in which they 
lived. Now he would have no friend ; that was all. 

Andrey did not often swerve from his resolutions, whatever 
they might be, when once his mind was made up; but it 
was hard to keep this one. His. feelings could not at once 
become accustomed to the new regulations forced upon them 
by the superior authority of the mind. It was a relief to him 
when George produced his bundle of manuscript and began to 
read. 

What he brought with him was not one of the political 
articles or pamphlets that he wrote “in the sweat of his brow,” 
as he used to say, but the fruit of his hours of leisure. It was 


100 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


verses, partly lyrics, partly short poems, each with a separate 
subject, but so closely united by a common idea, that, taken as 
a whole, the collection formed as it were disconnected cantos 
of one poem. 

It was the song of the dawn of the Russian revolt, as, 
enthusiastic and benignant, it found its sole manifestation in 
the rush of the privileged youth “among the people” to 
preach the gospel of Socialism and the reign of happiness 
and brotherhood. 

Written at various times and in various moods, by fits and 
starts, George’s compositions were fragmentary and uneven. 
The playful was mixed with the pathetic, short stanzas followed 
cantos of longer poems. But this irregularity, and apparent 
want of unity, made it easier for George to render completely 
the many sides of a noble epoch that lends itself so readily to 
poetic treatment. 

George’s verses began with a few short poems gathered 
together under the title “Beneath the Paternal Roof.” ‘They 
pictured the inner troubles of a young sensitive soul yearning 
passionately after truth and justice, and anxiously seeking a 
_ way out of the shameful compromises and the hateful comfort 
of the life of a rich man amidst starving millions. The follow- 
ing section, entitled “In Green Fields,” was the longest and 
most varied. Here were recorded the hard toil and the pure 
joys of the early propagandists. ‘The many hardships of the 
life of common labourers, which they took upon themselves, 
were made light of. ‘The tone of this part was cheerful. The 
story of adventures of the propagandists, now touching, now 
amusing, was interwoven with pictures of village life and scenery. 

The concluding poem was the most pathetic, and, from its 
artistic finish, the best of the whole. It was the swan-song of a 
young propagandist about to pass from his “ temporary tomb” 
—the prison cell—into that which is eternal. This song was 
in a minor key, mild and soft as the time of which it treated. 
George’s artistic feeling had prevented him from making his 
hero the mouthpiece of his present views and sentiments. 
His propagandist was a real man of his time,—one of those 
workers, at the beginning of the day, not yet embittered by 
long years of cruelty. Forgetful of the wrongs done to himself, 
he neither complained nor regretted a life cut off in its bloom ; 
he found his meek consolation in the thought that, prevented 
from serving the people by his labours, he would still serve 


. 
=” = <a — 








GEORGE’S VERSES. IOI 


them by his death. But George’s sincerity and truthfulness 
received, as ever, their ample reward. . The touching figure of 
his hero, slain with such wanton cruelty, spoke to the heart 
with more power than could any impassioned appeal to indigna- 
tion and revenge. 

Andrey listened enraptured, fearing to speak a word. He 
was under the spell of George’s melodious thoughts, which 
soothed the evil spirit that possessed him, and he was afraid of 
breaking the charm. 

These songs of the recent past were to him more than a 
work of art, they were records and reminiscences of his own 
life. Both he and George had been actual propagandists in 
their time. Before they had become terrorists, they had shared 
all these feelings. ‘The young man upon his death-bed in the 
prison cell, personified scores of beloved and well-remembered 
friends who actually had met this fate, and for the same cause. 
Noble and pure emotions, roused by the magic of poetry, 
calmed Andrey’s brain-fever, and moved him to better feelings 
towards George. ‘They had too many common bonds between 
their higher moral natures, 

The reading did not last more than an hour. When 
George had finished, Andrey burst out into frank and warm 
approbation ; this was by far the best thing George had ever 
written. Andrey made some critical observations and sugges- 
tions. They talked easily and freely, and George had no 
longer to seek for an explanation of his friend’s manner, for 
it was as natural and unconstrained as usual. 

Andrey however refused to go for the walk which George 
proposed to him. He had been commissioned to write a 
business letter in cipher, which he had not yet started upon. 

He remained standing a long time at the window, just as 
George had left him. He was still under the influence of the 
work he had just heard; it was indeed charming. George’s 
talent had grown rapidly, and there was in him the promise of 
a true poet. Happy man! he had upon his brow the seal 
of the chosen ones. And he had a heart also; the things he 
did could not be the work of pure imagination. He must feel 
them deeply and intensely, to find for them such heart-reaching 
words. 

The writer was receding into the background. Andrey 
began to think of the man, and the wound at his heart, which 
had closed for a moment, re-opened. But he could no longer 


102 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST.— 


view George’s conduct in the same light as he had overnight. 
A man so true, sincere, and earnest could not be a coxcomb. 
He had wronged George in his thoughts. But George’s 
strangely distorted views of the girl? His absurd exaggera- 
tions? Well, these were in his nature. He could not help 
them. It was his way of taking everything. He loved her 
truly all the same. Does not each man love differently, 
according to his nature? And she loved him too. It was 
only natural that a girl should find more charm in George’s 
exalted and poetical love, than in the dull and prosaic thing 
which a dull and prosaic man like himself could offer her. 

Solidity, stability, durability!” Andrey bitterly said to 
himself. 

If love were the sort of stuff of which dresses and shoes 
are made, he would have a fair chance. But women do not 
look upon love in that light, and they are quite right. Besides, 
why should George’s love necessarily be fickle? Certainly he 
had scarcely any idea of the real Tania, worshipping in her 
stead an idol he had clad in some tinsel dresses of his own 
making. But if he never discovered them to be unreal, what 

harm was there? And suppose that in time this fantastic 
mantle became threadbare and fell to pieces, he would simply 
weave a new one instead. He is quite equal to the task, and 
it will be all the more diverting for both of them. 


Andrey was now seated before his table. Leaning his . 


elbow upon it, he looked dejectedly at the bare walls covered 
with cheap paper, and mechanically he tried to trace out the 
lines which would divide into two symmetrical parts the ugly 
green squares of the pattern. But he could make nothing of 
it, and turned his‘eyes wearily to his writing-desk. 

Two months! Yes, only two months since first he met 
her. But he knew her just as well as if they had’ been 
acquainted for two years. He began to read her soul almost 
from the first day he spoke to her. Now he knew her better 
than she knew herself, divining qualities which she would have 
modestly refused to admit, and weaknesses against which in her 
girlish petulance she would have indignantly protested. And 
he would hesitate to say for which of these two she was dearer 
to him. He loved the whole of her, just as she was; and he 
could imagine nothing better, since such a one would have to 
be different from Tania. 

He passed in review all the incidents of their brief acquaint- 














GEORGE’S VERSES. 103 


ance. He remembered almost every word she had ever said 
to him, every expression of her face. No, there was no hope 
for him. A friendship! Girls very willingly bestow that on 
the friends of those they love. She already loved George 
when he met her for the first time. In doubting this for a 
single moment, he was fooling himself on purpose. And if 
she did not love George at that time, how could she hesitate 
between them now?... 

Yes; everything that life has of the choicest is for these 
Benjamins of nature, because they already have so much. 

“Well, so let it be,” Andrey said, a gloomy light kindling 
in his eyes. “Flowers grow upon the dreariest paths of life. 
Let others pluck and enjoy them in peace. We, the obscure 
workers, will keep for ourselves the thorns, and we shall make 
no complaint.” 

He sighed, and then resolutely set to work. For several 
hours he lived in the world of figures, whispering numbers, 
consulting the key, making calculations, writing with strained 
angry application, hardly lifting his head. He wanted to get 
his letter to headquarters in good time, because the man who 
was going to Dubravnik would start in the afternoon. 

At headquarters he found Lena, whose day of service it 


. was. 








*“There’s something that concerns you from Dubraynik,” 
she said. 

She produced from the drawer a letter from Zina, still wet 
from the application of the chemicals. 

“‘ Here it is, and there’s your name,” she said, pointing with 
her finger to an isolated group of figures on the last page. 

Andrey read the passage, which ran thus :— 

** As for the business I am about, there are complications, 
and”—here stood the group of figures—* will do well to come 
here if he can manage it.” 

Few things could have been so welcome to Andrey as this 
invitation, and he resolved at once to accept it. 

“Well, what do you say?” Lena asked, rather coldly. 
* Shall you go?” 

** Most certainly I shall,” Andrey answered. 

‘I expected that you would,” said the girl, with a frown. 

Andrey knew that Lena would dislike the step he was 
taking, and he knew why. 

“| must go,” he said, apologetically. “Though Zina’s 


= 


104 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


summons is not a peremptory one,-I know she would not send 
it at all if it was not important that I should come.” 

‘And you'll throw to the dogs the propaganda among the 
workmen you have started so well, and everything else?” Lena 
went on angrily, without listening to him. “It’s always the 
way with our revolutionists of noble extraction, who only await 
the first opportunity to throw themselves into exciting terrorist 
business !” 

Lena was a “ peasantist ” by conviction, or, more exactly, a 
“propagandist” pure and simple. The socialist propaganda 
among peasants and working-men was, according to her, the 
only form of activity to which the revolutionists ought to 
devote their energies. ‘They ought to pay no attention what- 


ever to the fierce persecutions of the Government, which only 


tended to divert them into political action. 

She valued Andrey very much as a successful propagandist, 
and she was especially vexed with him for giving up the work, 
perhaps for ever. ‘There was nothing easier than to break 
one’s neck in an enterprise of the Dubravnik kind. She 
attacked him vehemently, accusing him of want of perseverance. 

Andrey protested good-naturedly. 

‘“‘T should be very glad to persevere in my work,” he said. 
“but it would be disgraceful for our party not to make some 
effort to rescue our friend.” 

“‘ There’s no disgrace for the party, or for a man devoted to 
his cause, in spending his life and his energies where they can 
be of the greatest use,” Lena retorted. , 

“Do you consider, then, Boris and the other two so value- 
less for the cause that they are not worth the trouble of a 
rescue ?” Andrey asked sharply. 

“They are of as much value as the best among us,” Lena 
rejoined, “ but we shall do nothing but hang about our prisons 
if we try to release all who are worth delivering.” 

“The best course, therefore,” Andrey replied ironically, 
“is to let them all rot there? Isn’t it?” 

“Those who are alive have something better to do than 
to break their necks in trying to disinter their dead,” Lena 
said, without flinching. 

**Then you would probably advise the miners, whose com- 
panions have been buried by the crumbling of a shaft, to proceed 
with their work, and not to make any attempt at rescue, if it 
involved some risk to themselves,” Andrey suggested, 














, GEORGE’S VERSES. 105 

“Tet your miners alone, for goodness’ sake, for they prove 
nothing,” exclaimed Lena. “A simile is not an argument. 
We have no faith in our work; that’s the fact. If we had 
faith, we would have pluck enough to stick to it.” 

“No, thanks!” Andrey said, with a sneer. “I don’t envy 
such sheepish pluck, and don’t pretend to have it.” 

He was very angry with what he termed Lena’s obtuse 
doctrinarianism. ‘The girl was very cross too. Sinces he had 
read Zina’s letter in the morning, she had been boiling over 
with indignation at Andrey’s anticipated desertion. They 
almost quarrelled, but they made peace at the end. 

- “Tt’s useless for us to waste time in quarrelling,” Andrey 
said. ‘You know well enough that I shall go to Dubravnik 
whatever you say or do not say to me. As I shall probably 
not see you before starting, I had better say good-bye to you 
at once.” . 

They kissed each other, as is the custom among Russian 
men and women of their set, though the girl still bore a 
grudge to Andrey for his want of seriousness. But he tried 
to soothe her, by telling her that it would be only a short 
furlough. He would return in a month or so, with his three 
companions, all of whom he promised to induce to join her 
propagandist circle. 

Before leaving the town Andrey put all his business 
matters in good order, handing over his acquaintances among 
the workmen to good substitutes for himself. He worked so 
well that in two days he started for Dubravnik, in much better 
spirits than he had been for some time. 


eae oie 
aie Eee 
\ Palit et 2 


a 











PART Il. 


BaeDER FIRE. 








eT THE Wie ia tt. tt Pt 











Pom DR FIR E. 


. 
———— a 


CHAPTER I, 
DAVID AGAIN. 


h | OBODY in St Petersburg knew the address of the 
Dubravnik headquarters. Andrey was accordingly 
directed to call on two sisters, Mary and Catherine 

Dudoroy, and to-inquire of them as to Zina’s whereabouts. 

Not without difficulty Andrey discovered the obscure lane 
in which they lived, and found their grim unplastered hungry- 
looking red brick house. 

At the very top of an endless stone staircase with worn-out 
steps, Andrey stopped before a yellow-painted door. 

They must be here, for there was nothing but the garret 
above. 

His ring at the bell was answered by a tall very poorly clad 
girl, with a sickly complexion, who might have been thirty as 
easily as twenty. 

“What do you want, please?” she asked coldly, raising 
her eyes only as far as the visitor’s breast. 

“Do the Miss Dudorovs live here?” Andrey inquired. 

“Step in,” the girl said curtly. 

Andrey was led by her into a room, where the signs of 
poverty struck even the eyes of a Nihilist, who is not likely to 
be very exacting about material comfort. The whole of the 
furniture, if sold by auction, would not have fetched more than 
a few roubles. 

The room was divided by a curtain of cheap chintz into 
two compartments. The front part, in which Andrey was 
received, served as a sitting-room, the back part was reserved 
as a bedroom. 


IIo THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“What is it you want, please?” the girl repeated, in the 
same chilling tone. 

‘TI want to see Miss Dudorov,” Andrey answered drily. 

“ Me or Masha?” the girl inquired. 

“You are Catherine Dudorov, then?” Andrey said. ‘I 
come with a message to both of you from Lena Zubova, and 
my name is Kojukhov.” 

The girl’s sickly face brightened up in a moment. 

“T am so glad !” she exclaimed. ‘Take a seat. I'll call 
my sister at once.’ 

She went out hurriedly, and Andrey seated himself by the 
bare deal table. Bundles of manuscript, differing in size and 
handwriting, were scattered over it. At one of the corners was 
an orderly pile of freshly-written foolscap. 

Andrey knew from Lena, to whom the two sisters were 
distantly related, that they had inherited from their father a 
small fortune. But they gave it up to the last penny for the 
cause. Now they were evidently earning their livelihood by 
copying, and by any other work they could get. Upon one of 
the stools Andrey saw a piece of embroidery in brilliant silk, 
too luxurious and useless to be intended for the personal use 
of the dwellers in that more than modest room. 

In a moment Masha rushed in, informed by her sister of 
the arrival of their interesting visitor from St Petersburg. She 
was the elder of the two, but she looked the younger, thanks 
to her lively face, with its small turned-up nose and bright hazel 
eyes. 

‘““We didn’t expect you so soon,” she said. ‘“ Zina told us 
that you would hardly be able to come for three days. You 
want to see her at once, I suppose ? ” 

“Yes, if it is not inconvenient to you.” 

“Not in the least. I will be ready in a moment, and will 
show you the way. It isn’t very far.” 

She dived behind the curtain, and Andrey heard her 
bustling about before the toilet- table. 

The sisters were very anxious to keep their guest for a 
while. They wanted to ask him many questions about St 
Petersburg. But they did not want to detain him. 

“ How is Lena?” asked the younger sister, who had stayed 
with him. 

Andrey told in a few words what he hte about her. 

“Listen, Kojukhov,” Masha’s voice rang out from behind 




















DAVID AGAIN. Iil 


the curtain. ‘“ We know David’s address too. I can take you 
to him, if you like.” 

“ David is in Dubravnik, then!” Andrey exclaimed, casting 
on the curtain a look of glad surprise. ‘I did not know this. 
But come out, please, that we may cease talking in this ghostly 
fashion.” 

“Tn a minute,” Masha answered, still behind the curtain. 

She came out of her hiding-place, in another dress, holding 
still in her mouth a few hair-pins. 

“ David has been to the Roumanian frontier to arrange with 
his Jews about smuggling our books from abroad,” Masha 
said, whilst she fastened with her hair-pins the tresses upon her 
bowed head. ‘“‘ He stopped here on his way. . Ido not 
really know whither.” 

“Now I’m quite ready,” she said at last, putting on her 
hat. ‘‘To whom do you want to go, to Zina or to David?” 

Between two such offers the choice was difficult. 

“Let us go to the nearer of the two,” Andrey said. 

Neither was far off, but David’s place happened to be 
nearer. 

‘Shall you make a ane stay at Dubravnik?” Masha 
inquired as they walked along. 

“JT don’t know. . . . It will depend, . . .” Andrey 
answered, evasively. 

He did not know whether the girl was a regular member 
of the section, and was initiated into the secret of the affair for 
which he had come. 

“Are you staying permanently in the town?” he asked, in 
order to change the conversation. 

“No. We live in the country, and shall return to it before 
long. We came to Dubraynik to get certificates as teachers. 
We have been promised places as schoolmistresses in some 
village if we pass our examinations here.” 

_ “Tt must be hard for you to study for your examinations 
and go on with all this copying and embroidery.” 

Masha smiled. 

‘It was much harder for us, I assure you,” she said, cheer- 
fully, ‘before we got all this work. Now we get on pretty 
well, and in a few months we shall be settled in the country.” 

“I see you are ‘peasantists,’ like Lena,’’ Andrey remarked. 

“Yes, we are. Are not you? From what Lena told us, I 
thought you were.” 


It2 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“Oh no,” Andrey replied ; ‘‘I don’t go to such extremes.” 
He began to argue his point with the girl, whom he wished 
to convert to sounder views. ‘Their discussion was animated, 
but not bitter or vehement. The fierce dissensions between 
the “terrorists” and the “peasantists” were as yet in a latent 
state. The two factions had occasional skirmishes, but they 
worked side by side in the same societies without much 
friction. 

They found David at home, playing with a dirty little 
urchin with big blue eyes and a forest of yellow curls, who 
ran away hastily on seeing the strangers. -It was the inn- 
keeper’s daughter. David was fond of children, like all 
genuine Jews, notwithstanding all his objections to family life. 

He was making a temporary stay in a Jewish inn, where he 
seemed to be quite at home. He stopped there always when 
he came to Dubravnik, and was on the best of terms with the 
landlord. Nobody asked any passport from him, and he was 
known simply as David. 

He was as happy to see Andrey as Andrey was to see him. 

“You come just in the nick of time, my good friend,” said 
he. ‘‘ Had you been one day later, I should have missed you 
altogether, for I leave town to-morrow.” 

Masha made a move to go home. 

“Now, good-bye,” she said to Andrey. ‘I hope you'll not 
forget the road to our house.” 

Having fulfilled her mission, she wanted to leave them free 
**to conspire.” 

David stopped her. | 

“Wait a moment. I want to ask you which of your 
Odessa friends remained at their old places after the recent 
arrests, so that I may find them.” 

“Are you going to Odessa?” Andrey pase with some 
surprise. 

“Yes, to Odessa.” 

‘But you were there only three weeks ago! Never in my 
life have I seen a man with such a lust for travelling,” he 
added, turning to the girl. 

“Lust for travelling!” David protested. “It drives me 
mad to think what a lot of money I have thrown away in these 
three weeks, to say nothing of the waste of time. It’s all the 
work of these foolish peasantists, for whom. our friend feels 
such tenderness,” and he nodded at Masha. 














DAVID AGAIN. 113 


“These poor peasantists,” the girl sighed; ‘they are 
your scapegoats in everything.” 

“Listen one minute,” David insisted, taking Andrey by 
the coat sleeve. ‘I told them again and again I would pass 
over the frontier as many of their books as they liked; it was | 
no trouble to me—it only extends my business. ‘They had 
only to defray their share of the expense, and to keep a man to 
receive their parcels on this side of the frontier. This they 
never did,” he added, throwing a reproachful glance at Masha, 
‘so that I had to bring the books up to town. Still I went on 
doing the frontier business for them, and all went well for a time. 
But a few weeks ago theyhad the misfortune to enlist as a member 
of their section Abrumka Blum, who, though a Jew, is a born 
fool. You have had some experience with him, I suppose?” 

Andrey nodded, smiling. 

“Well, I don’t know whether these peasantists thought 
Abrumka clever enough for them, or for some other reason, 
_ but the fact is that since they have got a Jew of their own, they 
resolved they would have a frontier of their own too.” 

* Oh, David!” Masha tried to expostulate. 

** No, no; let me finish, you shall have your say afterwards. 
Well, Abrumka was sent to Kishenev with a lot of money, 
and he arranged a frontier for them, agreeing to pay for 
books . . . ”—here David made a pause to prepare a dramatic 
effect— eighteen roubles per pood.” 

He looked in silence at Andrey, then at Masha, and then 
~ at Andrey again. 

Masha seemed to him sufficiently confounded, but Andrey 
was not in the least impressed, as he had not the slightest idea 
what was a reasonable price. 

“‘Highteen roubles a pood! It is unhéard of. I never pay 
more than six,” David exclaimed. ‘It’s a shame to pay such 
prices. It spoils the frontier for all of us! It makes the 
smugglers intractable.” 

He warmed to his subject, accompanying his peroration 
with strange Jewish gesticulation, which came back to him 
when he was much excited. 

“ Naturally,” he went on in a calmer voice, “as. soon as I 
learned this I made a row. We returned to our previous ar- 
rangement, and I had to start to the frontier in order to make 
everything straight.” 

“You succeeded, I hope?” said Andrey. 

H 


IT4 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“Yes; but for how long I don’t know. I am not certain 
they will not play me the same trick again, if they get hold of 
let us say another Jew a bit cleverer than Abrumka.” 

“Vou ought to be ashamed to speak so, David,” Masha 
interposed. “I heard about that frontier business ‘from the 
Odessa people.” 

** Well, wasn’t it as-I said: >” 

Certainly not. Your frontier is the Genii one, which 
is very distant, and where there are none of their people ; whilst 
the Roumanian frontier is quite near Odessa, and they have an 
affiliated branch at Kamenetz, close to it. That’s why they 
sent Abrumka to try his luck. There was neither want of con- 
fidence in you, nor anything like a desire to boast of the pos- 
session of their own frontier.” 

David waved his hand ironically. 

“Well, well,” he said, “you can’t catch an old bird with 
chaff. I know what I know. Tell me rather where I can find 
your Abrumka, to whom I have to communicate the results of 
my journey.” 

Masha gave him the desired address. 

‘“‘ Now I must get ready,” David said; ‘‘I have an appoint- 
ment with Zina this morning.” 

He fetched from the corner his faithful linen sack, and 
plunged his hand into it, groping about to find something. 
But as he was not able to find it, he began to turn out on the 
sofa its varied contents. A shirt, a washing glove, a hair brush, 
a small feather cushion, one volume of a German novel, a pair 
of socks, several round tin boxes with various -contents, and 
many other things followed in rapid succession. It was a com- 
plete outfit for a man whose life is spent mostly in a railway 
carriage. ° 

‘“This sack of mine is a very queer one; what you want is 
always at the bottom,” David said, catching hold of a palm- 
tree barrel of Swiss workmanship, which rolled out at last upon 
the sofa. 

He unscrewed the barrel, which contained an assortment 
of buttons, white and black thread, a needle-case, a thimble, 
and a pair ofscissors. | Then he took off his overcoat, and set 
to work tailoring. 

“‘ Give it me,” said Masha, “T’ll mend it for you.” 

‘‘No, I can do it much better. Woman’s work does not 
last,” David replied, : 








DAVID AGAIN. eg 


. In order to be useful.in some way Andrey began to put 
back David’s things into the sack. There was among the rest 
a small green bag six or seven inches long. When Andrey 
took it up a strange object fell out. At first he mistook it for 
a child’s toy, such as David might have bought for one of his 
favourites. It was a small wooden cube, an inch in height, upon 
a diminutive pedestal. But long and heavy strips of leather 
were fastened to it, showing that it was an object of use. 
Through the opening of the small sack Andrey saw that it con- 
tained something woollen, with alternate black and white 
stripes, which he recognised at once as the Jewish praying 
implements. He had gone one day into a Jewish synagogue, 
and could not be mistaken. The cube was the diminutive 
altar they fix to their forehead whilst reciting their prayers ; 
the striped towel was the sacred za/ith for covering the head and 
shoulders. 

** Look here, see what he’s got!” Andrey said to Masha, 
showing her the cube and the striped towel. 

Both burst out laughing. It was so amusing to see these 
things in the possession of David, a freethinker like all the 
rest. 

“That’s my passport ; and what’s more,” said David, “J 
never travel without it. It works like magic to drive away spies 
and police, when they take it in their head to suspect me of 
being a Nihilist.” 

He smiled, cutting the thread with his white teeth. 

“‘ Now let us go to Zina,” he said. ‘I am ready to appear 
before our leader.” 

Masha begged them to give her best wishes to Zina, and to 
Annie as well. 

“Who is this Annie?” Andrey inquired, when they were 
alone. 

“ Annie Vulitch, an old acquaintance of yours. You met 
her at the frontier, don’t you recollect? She says she remembers 
you very well, She came back from Switzerland, and now is 
playing the part of housemaid at headquarters.” 

“Yes,” Andrey said, “‘I remember her well. But was it 
prudent to entrust so young a girl with so important a post?” 

“T was inclined to think so myself at first,” David said. 
“But she plays her part splendidly. She was chosen by Zina, 
who has the same gift for knowing the people as she has for 
attaching them to herself.” 


CHAPTER II. 
THE HEADQUARTERS OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 


HAT afternoon there was an informal council of war in 
Zina’s little house in one of the suburbs of Dubravnik. 
Only four persons were present,—the two women, 
Andrey, and David. 
Vulitch took little part in the conversation. Buried in a 
deep arm-chair, so that her tiny feet were dangling in mid-air, 


she listened, moving her brisk blackberry eyes from one 


speaker to another. 

Zina explained to Andrey all the details of their plan of 
rescue, and asked for his opinion. 

“You are a newcomer, and your head is fresh. You can 
judge better than any of us.’ 

Andrey continued to look in silence. at the rough map of 
the prison Zina had traced for him. - 

“Speak out, for goodness sake!” Zina said. “Are you 
struck dumb P” 

“Well,” Andrey at last replied, “to tell you the truth I 
don’t like your plan at all. Too many things have to work 
into each other. Such plans never turn out well. It’s too 
complicated ; a slight hitch at one point will ruin the whole 
affair. Besides, the very base of it is not solid. That is my 
opinion.” 

The whole enterprise was based upon the co-operation of 
the common criminals, with whom the political prisoners had 
succeeded in establishing secret relations. ‘Two of these, one 


formerly a highway robber nicknamed Berkut, and another | 


a pickpocket named Kunitzin, volunteered to help Boris and 
his friends to escape. ‘Their offer was accepted. The sub- 
terranean passage by which the escape had to be made was 
fairly forward, and ought to be finished in a week or so. It 
was all dug by Berkut and Kunizin. Their cell was on the 
ground floor, whilst the political offenders, watched much more 


Ee 





THE HEADQUARTERS OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 117 


vigorously, were locked up in the cells of the upper storey of 
the prison. 

When everything was ready, on the night chosen, the 
political prisoners were to open the doors of their cells with 
skeleton keys, descend to the cell of the common prisoners, 
and thence to the subterranean passage. 

The great danger was not in the fact that two common 
criminals played in it so conspicuous a part. In this there 
was nothing very extraordinary. Political prisoners, when 
kept in the same gaols with the common offenders, very often 
acquire a strong and beneficial influence over them, awakening 
their moral nature, and converting them sometimes into de- 
voted friends. Both Kunitzin and Berkut were said to be 
devoted to Boris body and soul, and they had proved on many 
occasions that they could be trusted. But they were locked 
up in a cell with fifteen other prisoners, who as a matter of 
course, were in the secret of the subterranean work. None 
of them knew that the passage was intended for political 
prisoners. Berkut and Kunitzin only said they intended -to 
escape themselves, and the brotherhood of outcasts kept their 
secrets well. But it would be enough if one of the lot got 
drunk on the smuggled brandy for some fatal word to be let 
fall in the hearing of the guards. Finally, there was the passing 
from one storey to another eee corridors watched day and 
night. 

“Tt is very risky, all this,” Andrey summed up. ‘“ They'll 
be caught for certain during these wanderings, if not before.” 

“What escape isn’t very risky, Andrey?” Zina rejoined. 
** But look here, I’ll show you that what you call wanderings 
are not so dangerous as you think.” 

She took a fresh sheet of paper and made an additional 
plan of the interior of the prison, which she knew to the 
minutest detail. 

There were nine political prisoners just now in the 
Dubravnik gaol. Their cells were in two contiguous cor- 
ridors that ran at right angles in the north-western corner 
of the building. Boris and his two companions were for- 
tunately all in the same corridor. After the midnight round, 
Zalessky, one of the prisoners in the other gallery, was to call 
to his door and engage in talk with the special guard ap- 
pointed to watch the political prisoners. Zalessky had done 
it several times already, in order that the guard should see 


118 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


nothing suspicious in this proceeding. Zina showed on the 
plan that from Zalessky’s door the guard would be unable to 
see anything in the other gallery; it was equally likely that 
he would also hear nothing. The hinges of the door, as well 
as the locks of the cells, were carefully oiled beforehand, and 
the fugitives were to walk in their socks. 

Once outside their cells, the fugitives would have to open 
with a skeleton key the door at the top of the stairs leading to 
the ground floor, and descend into the gallery of the common 
offenders. ‘There was only one guard for all the four blocks 
on the ground floor, who had to walk all round the gallery. 
The fugitives would have only to wait a while upon the stairs 
to catch the moment when the guard would be out of sight. 
Then they were to slip into the cell of Berkut and Kunitzin, 
who would be expecting them, and who would show them to 
the mouth of the subterranean passage. 

“‘And where does the passage open outside?” Andrey 
asked. 

*‘ Here,” said Zina, marking upon her first map a spot out- 
side the outer wall. 

*‘ And the sentinel ?” 

** Here.” 

She marked another spot upon the line of the wall very 
near the former. 

“You see!” Andrey said. ‘The men must climb out of 
the passage under the very nose of the sentinel.” 

He invited Vulitch and David to look, as if calling them as 
witnesses. 

“Tf you were charged with placing the sentinels, you would 
certainly have disposed them so as to smooth all difficulties 
for those who wanted to escape,” Zina exclaimed, losing her 
patience. ‘But since it is not so, we must make the best of 
it, and accept what can’t be helped.” 

Zina had as keen a perception of details as Andrey. But 
there was the difference of their temper. Andrey could be 
bold to madness when he was in real earnest in a matter; 
but he wanted time to warm himself up to any affair in which 
he was embarked. Obstacles were the first thing that struck 
him. Zina, on the contrary, with her more excitable nature, 
launched into full swing on the spot, maintaining the same 
pace up to the end. When they happened to be partners in 
the same affair they always quarrelled. 











‘ 


THE HEADQUARTERS OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 119 


“Well, let’s take our chance,” Andrey said. ‘‘We must 
do the best we can. As to the sentinel, I have an idea. 

But I must see the place myself. Tell me, what’s the part you 
propose to give me?” 

Zina explained it. A carriage was to wait outside near the 
opening of the passage, to take the fugitives to a place of 
safety. Vasily, who was a good driver and knew the town 
well, was to be the coachman. But it was thought useful to’ 
have another reliable man on the spot, his hands free, capable 


of helping the fugitives to get in, and of defending them in 
case of emergency. 


Andrey nodded in sign of assent. 

“You were quite right,” he said; “there’s no saying what 
may happen.” 

It was decided that to-morrow afternoon Andrey should 
examine the spot under Vasily’s direction. Then the council 
was closed. 


““Where can I see you to-morrow?” David asked Andrey 
before leaving. 

*‘T have no idea. Ask Zina. I am under her orders.” 

“Come to Rokhalsky’s in the morning,” Zina said. ‘We 
shall all be there to-morrow. You will learn there how Andrey 
and Vasily will arrange between themselves about the lodging. 
They will live together at Vasily’s inn.” 

Vasily occupied a room in the inn where his horse was 
stalled. He gave himself out as the coachman and footman 
of a small merchant, who had been detained at Romny fair 
but was to arrive shortly. 

Andrey would have to play the part of this imaginary 
master, and he had therefore to provide himself with clothes 
suitable to his new passport and new position,—a long national 
kaftan, a pair of long boots, a cap and waistcoat of the 
common pattern, and so on. In the meantime, Vasily was to 
announce to the innkeeper the arrival of his master. 

David was charged to inform Vasily at once of Andrey’s 
arrival. ‘To-morrow, at Rokhalsky’s, they were to make definite 
arrangements for the next day, when Andrey was to be installed 
at the inn. 

Vasily himself never came to Zina’s house, and the two 
lodgings were kept as completely isolated as possible. ‘The 
inn was only a temporary refuge. The police would have 
no difficulty in finding it out, as soon as the rescue was 


120 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


attempted. The inn had, therefore, to be abandoned, horse 
and carriage included, the same night that the attempt took 
place, and Vasily and Andrey would take refuge in another 
place. As to the fugitives, they would be secreted at Zina’s 
house, where they would have to remain in close confinement 
whilst the police were turning the town upside down in order 
to catch them. It was therefore essential that Zina’s place 
should be kept free from all connection with the inn, and in 
general as clear as possible from anything likely to excite 
suspicion. ‘The two women lived almost completely secluded. 
The people engaged in the undertaking met outside, in public 
gardens or squares, for brief communications ; or when they all 
had to discuss anything together, they met at some friend’s 
house, such as Rokhalsky’s. 

“Where will you put me for to-night?” Andrey asked 
when David left. | 

“‘T think you may as well stop here for one day,” Zina 
said. . 

Andrey would have been very glad of this opportunity to 
be in Zina’s company, but he thought it not advisable from the 
business point of view. ‘To-morrow morning was the meeting 
at Rokhalsky’s, which he wished to attend. He would have 
to go out and return in the day-time. He might be seen, and 
some one might suspect that strangers were harboured in the 
house. 

“Then [ll escort you to Rokhalsky’s directly,” Zina said. 
*‘ He'll be glad to give you shelter for the night, and you'll be 
on the spot for to-morrow’s meeting.” 

At dusk they left and went into the town. 

Rokhalsky was a good-natured man, of independent means 
and liberal views, on friendly terms with the conspirators. He 
received many guests of all sorts, never had any quarrel with 
the police, and his house was considered one of the safest 
refuges in Dubravnik. 

On approaching a newly built mansion in one of the quiet 
streets of the aristocratic quarter, Zina pointed out to Andrey 
a row of lighted windows on the third storey. 

“We shall find him at home,” she said. ‘Most likely 
they have a party to-night.” | 

“You are early people in Dubravnik, then,” Andrey 
observed, ‘‘and exceedingly parsimonious too, for there is not 
a single cab in the street.” 








ene re ea 





THE HEADQUARTERS OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 121 


“The poorer sort have probably come first on foot,” Zina 
_ said, carelessly. 

When they came nearer, Andrey saw in a window on the 
first floor of the house opposite two old ladies, who turned 
their heads up, it seemed to him, in the direction of Rok- 
halsky’s lodging, as if they were pointing it out to each other. 
Both looked somewhat excited. 

A suspicion crossed Andrey’s mind. 

“Wait a moment,” he said to Zina. “ Instead of going in 
together, let me go first. ‘There’s something about the place I 
don’t like.” , 

“Oh no! Rokhalsky is perfectly safe,” Zina exclaimed, 
moving towards the entrance. 

The double-panelled entrance door was open. Upon the 
paved hall and the white stone stairs Andrey observed foot- 
prints that seemed to him too large and too many. 

As Zina was turning to enter the door, Andrey took her 
gloved hand, and putting it under his strong arm drew her 
past the door. 

“Tt’s very likely that Rokhalsky is safe,” he said. “No 
doubt he is safe, since you say so. But what harm is there, if 
you wait two minutes in the street, whilst I run in to inquire ?” 

A strange obstinacy took possession of him.’ These in- 
significant signs, caught by the senses, but too feeble to be for- 
mulated distinctly in the mind, produced in Andrey what 
superstitious people would call a presentiment. But Zina did 
not share this. She was accustomed to the place, and but 
yesterday had paid a visit to Rokhalsky. 

‘*‘ Nonsense!” she said, freeing her hand. 

“Tf you won't let me go alone, [’ll not go at all,” Andrey 
said bluntly. 

Zina shrugged her shoulders and looked him in the face, 
impressed in spite of herself with his persistency. 

“Tf you think the case worth suspicion,” she said, “ we had 
better not go at all, but wait a while in the street, walking up 
and down until something turns up.” 

It was certainly the wisest course to follow. But men 
can’t be expected to be always wise. A toper who has val- 
iantly passed the door of one public-house, runs a greater risk 
of entering the next. A man who can congratulate himself 
upon a prudent first step, feels often disposed to make the 
next one so much the more foolish. 


122 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


Zina and Andrey’s respective positions were now reversed. 

“There’s no need to make such a fuss about every trifle,” 
Andrey said. ‘‘We might spend hours in the street without 
seeing anything. Wait for me at this corner; I'll return in a 
minute.” . 

He entered the hall. There was nota soulinit. A dead 
silence reigned through the house. When he ascended -the 
first flight of stairs, the door of one of the flats upon the landing 
opened. A wrinkled beardless face—Andrey could not see 
whether of an old man or an old woman—peeped out, gave 
him a sharp inquisitive glance, and instantly disappeared. He 
heard the door slammed behind him and hastily bolted from 
inside. 

** Strange!” 

Andrey ascended the stairs with as cautious a step as was 
consistent with the necessity of not betraying any want of con- 
fidence. It was absolutely necessary to ascertain how things 
stood with Rokhalsky, for their meeting was to be held there 
the next morning. 

He quickly made his plan of action. He would pass the 
third floor, where Rokhalsky lived, and go up to the fourth. 
He would see the name of the people who lodge there. Then 
he would descend, and ring the bell at Rokhalsky’s. If the 
police opened the door, he would inquire after the people 
upstairs, as if by mistake. In any case it was well to get ready 
his arms, which he never took off. 

He unbuttoned the holster of his revolver, and shifted for- 
ward the dagger hanging by his side so as to have it ready 
under his hand in case of need. 

Reaching the floor, where Rokhalsky’s small brass plate 
was visible, he stopped awhile. He could not make up his 
mind whether to go higher or not. His plan was a good one 
in principle; but there was an unpleasant risk in having his 
retreat cut off. He inwardly reproached himself for not having 
asked the upper lodger’s name of Zina, who might know it. 
The noise of a door rapidly unbolted, and the characteristic 


tinkling of spurs and swords, rendered all hesitation superfluous. _ 


The police were in Rokhalsky’s flat. Four gendarmes were 
posted in the lobby, with orders to apprehend every one who 
came. 

They heard Andrey’s cautious steps, and were only waiting 
for him to touch the bell to open the door and fly upon him. As 





8 Os 





» 


THE HEADQUARTERS OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 123 


he did not ring, they were afraid he might go away without giving 
them the chance of catching him, and resolved to make a sortie. 

But before they had time to open the door, Andrey had 
already turned the corner downstairs, flinging himself down- 
wards like a ball. He did not see the gendarmes, but only 
heard their shouting, the trampling of their feet, the clash of 
their swords, as they rushed after him. It was a mad chase, 
neither of the parties seeing, both of them only hearing, each 
other. But the match was unequal between the clumsy 
soldiers, encumbered with their long cavalry swords, and an 
agile young man like Andrey, whose experience of mountain 
excursions proved on this occasion of great use. Jumping 
down six or seven steps at once, he distanced the gendarmes at 
the first storey: Running past the gas burner within reach of 
his hand, an inspiration seized him. He extinguished the 
gas. At the next landing he did the same; and, by a rapid 
movement, threw across the passage the long wooden bench 
which. stood near the wall. It was now quite dark on the 
stairs: His pursuers slackened speed, as Andrey ascertained 
by the lessening of the noise. Then he had the pleasure of 
hearing some one stumbling over his improvised barricade, 
and falling heavily with a curse. The noise ceased almost 
completely; the gendarmes had to grope their way cautiously 
down, fearing more mischief. Andrey turned out the gas in the 
hall too, and came out upon the street, closing the entrance 
door behind him, so as to make the darkness more complete. 

' Zina, who was standing a hundred yards from the house, 
had heard nothing of the noise on the stairs. Andrey returned 
she thought rather too quickly. But on seeing him approach 
with a composed, though accelerated step, his eyes glistening, 
but with no” outward sign of excitement upon his face, she 
moved towards him. 

Andrey stopped her with a gesture. 

“The gendarmes!” he whispered when he was near her. 

Then he offered her, in the most gallant fashion, his arm, 
and led her toward Rokhalsky’s entrance. As the gendarmes 
would pour forth from it in a moment, it was better they 
should see their faces and not their backs. 

Zina made no objection. She was experienced enough in 
things of this kind to understand at once Andrey’s stratagem, 
and she thought it sensible. 

They had not taken ten steps when the door was flung open 


124 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


violently, and the four dishevelled and shattered gendarmes 
rushed out, one of them covering with a handkerchief his 
bleeding nose. ‘They looked round bewildered, and seeing 
nobody but a well-dressed gentleman and a lady approaching 
they ran towards them. 

“Your honour,” shouted hurriedly the first of them, “ have 
you seen a man running ?” 

“Out of this door?” Andrey inquired, pointing to that of 
Rokhalsky’s house. 


“Ves, yest” 
‘‘ With a red beard and a grey hat?” 
“Yes, no... no matter! which way has he gone?” 


“That way.” Andrey pointed up the lane behind them. 
*‘He has just run by us, and must have turned into the first 
block to the right. You will catch him yet... but run 
quickly .. .” 

They did run quickly, and were soon out of sight. 

Zina and Andrey proceeded arm in arm calmly and 
respectably. They turned into the first street, and Zina took 
a passing carriage, giving the driver the first direction that 
occurred to her, in a natural desire to get as quickly as possible 
from a dangerous place. 

The incident was over. They were safe as before. 

“An ‘unexpected reprimand,’” Andrey said, using the 
popular expression borrowed from a well-known comedy. 

He was unwilling to speak more clearly in the cab. 

“Yes,” Zina answered; “that’s a punishment for your 
refusal to stop with us for the night.” 

“Punishment ! what are you thinking of, Zina?” Andrey 
could not help exclaiming. “It’s a reward for my good 
behaviour, Just think what would have happened at the 
same place to-morrow at ten, if I hadn’t gone there.” 

“Dear me, yes!” Zina exclaimed. “I had quite forgotten 
about to-morrow. My head’s been like a pumpkin lately.” 

What Andrey meant was, that the police would certainly — 
place an ambush at Rokhalsky’s lodging, and most of their 
friends would have fallen into the trap. 

Zina stood up, grasped the iron frame of the coach-box, and 
raising her voice so as to dominate the rumble of the wheels, 
gave a new direction to the cabman. 

They soon alighted at the corner of a street, an Zina 
dismissed the cab. 











en 


THE HEADQUARTERS OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 125 


** Now tell me all about it,” she said, taking Andrey’s arm 
again. 

Andrey in a few words told his adventure,—his suspicions, 
his discovery, and his escape. 

“It’s indeed a bit of good luck for us that we went there,” 
said the young woman, thoughtfully. ‘‘ To think on what trifles 
our fate depends! Now we must send David, or somebody 
else, to make the round of our people and warn them. We 
are near David’s inn. Do you recognise the place?” 

“Not in the least.” 

“We are approaching it from another side.” 

She left his arm, and stepped into a dark gateway. Here 
she took off her elegant hat, and tied it up in her white pocket- 
handkerchief. She gave Andrey her umbrella, took off her 
gloves, and covered her head with her shawl, tying it under her 
chin in the fashion of a Russian peasant. 

Thus attired, with the white parcel in her hand, she might 
well be taken for a young and pretty seamstress carrying a 
parcel to a customer. 

“Wait for nie here,” she said; “in a quarter of an hour 
I'll be back. Show me your watch.” 

She compared it with hers. 

“ At three minutes to eight; neither before nor after, at 
this very spot.” 

“You have kept your St Petersburg ways,” said Andrey, 
approvingly. 

“Ves. Nothing so trying as to wait indefinitely.” 

She plunged into the darkness. 

Andrey watched a while the white spot of the parcel in her 
hand. ‘Then that disappeared also. 

He observed the house carefully, and choosing the 
straightest direction he could find, walked along, looking now 
and then at his watch. When a little less than half his time 
was over he turned back, retracing his steps and trying to keep 
to the same regular pace. He was only one minute before his 
time. . 

The white spot reappeared in the distance; it seemed to 
Andrey at the same place and of the same size, though now it 
was not the parcel. Zina wore her hat again, holding her 
handkerchief in her hand. A black figure was by her side. It 
was David, who wanted to congratulate Andrey upon his 
narrow escape. : 


126 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. . 


“These small towns are confoundedly hot places at times,” 
he said, laughing. ‘It’s well you have scalded your fingers at 
the outset.” 

Zina repeated to David some final instructions, and he left. 
at once on his errand. 

*‘T feel nervous,” she said, when they were alone. “ David 
told me of another quite unexpected arrest of a man in a good 
social position. I won’t trust your safety to big-wigs any 
longer. You shall stop with us.” 

“Very well. Let us go home.” 

“Yes, only we had better go in after ten o’clock. The 
street will be all asleep at that hour, and nobody will see you. 

They had two hours before them, which they had to spend 
somehow. 

Andrey proposed they should take a walk to the river. 
They could talk and enjoy the splendid southern night. 

“No,” Zina said, “we can spend our evening more use- 
fully. Let us pass by the prison; this will save you the 
necessity of going to it with Vasily. It’s good you should 

examine the place by night, as the escape will take place then.” 
| They went straight to the prison. It was a big square two- 
storeyed building, towering above a high wall which shut it out 
from the rest of the world. A large dreary square, without any 
trace of vegetation, surrounded it, joining at one corner the 
open fields. 

Zina and Andrey made a circuit of the square by the 
adjacent streets, and emerged at the mouth of the street where 
the carriage had to stand. The whole position could be 
viewed from here. 

“Just observe the general aspect,” Zina said. “You 
needn’t count the steps, or measure any distance; Vasily has 
already done that several times. He will tell you everything.” 

The position for Vasily’s carriage was satisfactory, or, more 
exactly, the least objectionable that could be found. It was 
rather too far away from the opening of the subterranean 
passage, but it was protected by houses from sight, and possibly 
fire from the prison wall. The street was a good one. Even 
at this comparatively early hour there was not a soul in it. 

Andrey communicated his impressions to Zina. 

“The weak point is here,” she said, pointing to a shabby 
wine-shop some two hundred yards off. ‘The neighbourhood 
is a desert at midnight. But drinking goes on till two o’clock 





THE HEADQUARTERS OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 127 


in that infernal shop. In case of alarm the waiters or some 
foolish customers may come out and cause some difficulty.” 

“Oh, as to that, you needn’t be uneasy,” said Andrey. 
“Tell be my business to keep them in order, or settle their 
account if they persist in mixing in what does not concern 
them. I should even propose that Vasily should stand nearer 
to the public-house, it’ll seem more natural. I'll stand on 
the look-out at the end of the street, and will give Vasily a 
signal to move a little farther off when the fugitives are coming 
out from the passage.” 

They plunged once more into by-streets, and presently 
came out on another part of the prison square. Zina led her 
companion across it, parallel to the prison wall. 

“These are the cells of the politicals,” she said, pointing 
to a row of windows in the upper storey, some of which were 
dark, others dimly lighted from within. 

“Can you show me Boris’s window?” Andrey asked, in an 
agitated voice. 

“The seventh from the angle. It is lighted; he must be 
reading now. Leyshin is in the fifth, Klein in the third cell from 
the angle. Both their windows are ‘dark ; they must be asleep. 
But you needn’t stare so indecently at a prison window,” she 
added, pushing his arm ; “the sentinel is looking at you. » 

Andrey had not expected that he was going to be brought 
so close to Boris that night. The thought that his friend was 
there, behind this thin window glass, within reach of his voice, 
if not of his hand, agitated him exceedingly. For a moment a 
mad idea crossed his brain, to shout Boris’s name, in order that 
he might by chance recognise them. Zina had to drag him by 
the arm to make him move on. 

They walked along in silence. When the prison square 
was fairly behind them, Andrey asked, 

“ Could he see us if we passed in the daytime ?” 

“No,” Zina answered. “The windows are cut very high 
in the wall, and are covered with white paint through which 
nothing can be seen. But I'll write to him that we have 
passed by his window to-night, and have seen the light in his 
cell. He’ll be pleased.” 

“T’ll write to him also. Can I?” Andrey asked. 

“Oh, yes; as often as you like. I can pass anything to 
him ; we are in active correspondence now. But it was a 
very difficult matter to win over his guards. Do you know, 


128 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


I have been twice within a hairsbreadth of being arrested 
myself. I always had the bad luck to hit on the wrong men.” 

They talked: about’ Boris all the way back. When at home 
Zina showed Andrey the photograph of her little son Boria, 
which she had received only a few days ago. 

“Ts he not charming !” she exclaimed, with a mother’s pride, 
holding before Andrey, without letting it go, the portrait of a baby 
with. chubby hands, round wondering eyes, and open mouth. 

-. “A nice baby,” he said. ‘Do you not think your boy is 
very like Boris?” 

‘Exactly the same face,” Zina exclaimed, glad to hear this 
from an outsider ; “and he will be in time as good a conspirator 
as his father. He is only a year and four months old, but he 
has already helped the revolution to the measure of his power.” 

Zina told how she took the child, then nine months old, 
to Kharkoff, when she had to keep the headquarters for the 
conspirators. 

“There is nothing,” she smiled, ‘that makes your house 
look so peaceful and innocent, and keeps off suspicions so 
well, as the presence of a child. My Boria was very useful to 
us on that occasion. Now tell me, has any one of us started 
on the revolutionary work so early as he? You see there’s 
fair hope that he’ll do well when he comes of age.” 

Andrey expressed his hope that when the child came of 
age their country would be in no need of conspirators. 

“* And what have you done with it now?” he asked. 

A momentary cloud passed over the young woman’s face. 

“T couldn’t keep him with me, lest in case of my arrest 
the child also should have to try the experience of the jail. 
It would be rather too early. The boy is now with Boris’s 
mother in the country. They are very fond of him, and send 
me all the news about him. I hope to see him, if I can 
manage it, after our business here is over. . . .” 

They talked far into the night in the dining-room, where 
a bed was improvised for Andrey, Vulitch having retired to 
sleep. Zina asked him about George, Tania, and Repin. 
Noticing something strange in the tone of his answers about 
the girl, she asked what was the matter. They were on terms 
which justified such a question. But Andrey avoided making 
any confidence. He could not speak lightly of his heart’s 
troubles ; but he would have been ashamed to speak of them 
as something serious to a woman in’ Zina’s position. 











-" 





CHAPTER ITI. 
BIDING THE TIME. 


NDREY and Vasily, during the next few’ days, went 

A through all the necessary operations, and got them-. 

selves satisfactorily settled at their inn. They lived 

there a whole month, and still the affair of the escape was just 
at the same point. | 

A few days after Andrey’s arrival at Dubravnik a very untoward 
hitch in their enterprise occurred. The common offenders of 
Berkut and Kunitzin’s cell were blessed with the company of a 
certain Zuckat, a coiner, who they had reason to suspect was a 
spy for the prison authorities; It was resolved, at the council 
of the inmates of the cell, that the digging of the subterranean 
passage must be suspended until they had got rid of the 
unwelcome companion. For three weeks the whole company 
exerted themselves adroitly in rendering life unsupportable to 
the newcomer. They succeeded at last in compelling the man 
to implore the prison authorities to transfer him to another 
cell. The work of excavation had now been resumed for a 
few days. 

These delays were exceedingly disagreeable, exhausting to 
the funds, and irritating to the nerves. The chief actors in 
the coming attempt had to spend their time in complete 
idleness. It would be folly for them to risk compromising 
themselves by taking part in the regular work of propaganda, 
which was going on in Dubravnik as elsewhere. ‘They had to 
keep aloof from it, as well as from everything else. A most 
careful study of the field of their future action, and of the 
. surrounding streets, was completed in a few days. This done, 
there was nothing for them but to sit down and wait. 

In his quality of business man, Andrey could not stay 
always at home; this would. look suspicious. Besides, he had 
to keep up relations with Zina, who was the centre for all 
information. Every morning he left the inn, and went either 

I 


130 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


to the public gardens, or to some other place agreed upon the 
previous day, where—if there was anything worth telling—he 
was met at eleven o’clock exactly, sometimes by Zina, but 
more often by Vulitch. The girl seemed to find great pleasure 
in his company, and Zina willingly yielded to her this little 
distraction. 

The remainder of the day Andrey spent in his room. 
Vasily, when he had fulfilled his coachman’s and footman’s 
duties, came to keep him company. It cannot be said they 
enjoyed the time much. Their outward calm notwithstanding, 
they were too excited by the expectation of what was coming, 
to find pleasure in study or in reading of any kind. Even 
novels could scarcely fix their attention. Occasionally they 
talked,—the various sides and aspects of the revolution, their 
common acquaintances, current literature, Gambetta and 
Bismarck, all were laid under requisition. But neither of the 
two was very fond of talking, and most of their time they 
spent in silence, sitting or lying, each in his corner, smoking 
their pipes. 

Vasily bore this kind of life with remarkable ease. He 
minded his horse, greased the harness, and looked in the 
windows for hours, his pipe in his mouth, with imperturbable 
dreamy calmness, as if he had never done anything else. 
Andrey tried to face it as best he could,—a fighting man must 
know how to wait. Patience in preparation’ is as eee for 
“the success of an enterprise, as courage and pluck in its 
execution. But Andrey was bored to death by this monotonous 
existence, especially at first, when the habits of his very active 
life in St Petersburg were still fresh upon him. After a time 
he grew more accustomed to his new conditions, and the acute 
form of exnui subsided. Still he expected the day of decisive 
action with burning impatience,—a day of deliverance for him- 
self, as well as for his imprisoned friends. 

The sun was already setting. ‘The two friends were at 
home just as usual. Andrey was lazily stretched upon a long 
chair, an open volume by his side, which he was not reading ; 
Vasily was sitting by the window smoking his pipe,—when 
somebody knocked. 

Vasily jumped up, and ran into the ante-room, where he slept 
and where he was supposed to live. It would be improper for 
him, footman and coachman, to sit in his master’s presence. 

With an alacrity one could hardly have expected from so 











Jer fa a ee 


BIDING THE TIME. 131 


clumsy a fellow, Vasily seized a brush, put his left hand in one 
of his supposed master’s boots, and began to clean it with the 
-innocent-minded mien of a thorough footman. 

**Come in,” Andrey said, from the front room. 

It was Vulitch who entered. Vasily’s performance was 
unnecessary this time. Replacing the boot and the brush, he 
followed the girl to the front room. 

Vulitch called at the inn at long intervals, always asking 
after Vasily, the coachman. There was no indiscretion in that. 
She was dressed like a smart housemaid, and it was natural 

that Vasily, an unmarried fellow, should have a sweetheart. 
; To-day, having met nobody in the hall, the girl walked 
upstairs and knocked at the door. 

“Would you like to join in a little open-air picnic?” she 
asked. ‘The elder Dudorov has passed her examination 
successfully. Only a few friends are coming, but it’s sure to 
be a merry gathering.” 

Both Andrey and Vasily accepted very willingly. 

‘Will Zina be one of the party?” Andrey asked. 

“No, ¢hey will not come. But they have given me 
permission to go,” said the girl, playfully, using the plural form 
to denote her mistress, as servants are wont to do in Russia as 

a sign of respect. 
She walked to the sofa, from which Andrey rose, lifting her 
skirt a little as women do when crossing the street in muddy 
weather. As she sat down, she took care that her dress should 
not rest upon the floor. 

The rooms in which the two friends lived were indeed by 
no means a model of cleanliness. The square table constantly 
rubbed by their sleeves was comparatively clean ; it was only — 
covered at the corners with dust and bread-crumbs. But on 
the floor, the grey blue layer of soft downy dust spread like 
the first thin snow on an even courtyard. Pieces of white, 
yellow, brown, and blue wrapping paper were scattered about 
in picturesque disorder, like so many coloured pebbles. Some 
of them were already covered with a thin veil of dust, which 
dulled their original colour, showing that this was not the first 
day they had lain there. The many coloured mosaic of the 
floor was completed by bits of eggshell, ends of cigarettes, 
dried up crusts of bread, which cracked under foot, and when 
moved drew with them dense masses of dust, like a strong 
magnet plunged into iron filings. 


132 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


The fact is that the room was engaged by Andrey “ with- 
out attendance.” Everything, the sweeping included, devolved 
upon his supposed footman. Vasily ran the errands, cleaned 
Andrey’s boots, and lit the samovar for him with praiseworthy 
punctuality. But he considered sweeping the room a waste 
fo time and energy. He saw no philosophical reason why the 
dust upon which we tread in the streets should be so much 
objected to on the floor. As Andrey did not much mind 
either, the room was swept about once a month. 

The proposed picnic was to take place in a small wood a 
mile from the town. It wasa long walk to the place. The 
supper, which had to be cooked on the spot, was to be late in 
the evening. Vasily, a practical man, resolved that it was wise 
to fortify themselves with something before starting. He had 
everything necessary at hand, and would get something ready 
in no time. 

They did not care to havea dinner every day at a restaurant, 
because it was expensive, and not very safe to go to a place 
frequented by all sorts of people. They therefore ate at home, 
improvising dinners which cost little money and no trouble,— 
a piece of ham, half-a-dozen eggs, a couple of herrings, with 
the inevitable tea, sufficed very well for their simple tastes. 

Vasily opened the cupboard in which he kept the tea-tray, 
the bread, and provisions. There was a big loaf, tea, sugar, 
and plenty of milk. This would have sufficed for an ordinary 
meal. But he wanted to have something better on this 
occasion. He ran to a shop near, and in a minute or two 
returned with a piece of cheese and a bulgy packet of hot 
sausages wrapped up in paper. 

The samovar was ready by this time, boiling and puffing. 
Vasily put it on the table, and made tea. Their household 
chattels were scanty,—two plates and two forks for the whole 
company. Vulitch as the guest, and Andrey as the master, 
were offered one each. Vasily, in his quality of servant, had 
to content himself with a saucer and his pocket-knife, which 
he wore attached to his belt by a string. 

“ But, for goodness’ sake, I can’t eat on such a table as 
this. You could plant potatoes on it,” said Vulitch, while, 
with the end of her finger, she drew some figures in the 
accumulated dust. 

“Oh, is that all!” Vasily said. “Tl make it right in a 
minute.” 





a 


BIDING THE TIME. 133 


He looked round for a duster, and his eyes fell upon his 
rose-coloured trousers, hanging conspicuously upon the wall. 


Vasily was a thrifty housekeeper, who was much pained at the 


thought of getting rid of anything. He had brought the whole 
of his wardrobe from Switzerland, expecting that it might come 
in useful in some way or other. But as he was peremptorily 
forbidden by Zina to wear his extraordinary trousers, which 
everywhere attracted attention, he kept them hanging up in his 
room, to give it, as he said, “the air of an inhabited place.” 
But now he forgot thrift in his ardent desire to oblige a lady. 
Snatching from the nail his long-preserved trousers, he tore a 
great piece out of them, and gallantly cleaned the table there- 
with, before the laughing girl could interfere. 

“You are a regular savage, Vasily!” she exclaimed. 

“Why?” Vasily asked, in innocent surprise. ‘ Woollen 
dusters clean much better than linen.” 

‘Possibly. But it’s a pity you use neither woollen nor linen 
dusters, nor brooms of any kind, as far as I can see,” she said, 
pointing to the,floor. ‘You ought to be ashamed to keep 
your master’s room in such 4 state.” 

Vasily only shrugged his shoulders. 

“Oh, the room? that’s nothing,” Andrey interrupted. 
“ Ask us rather if we haven’t relapsed into a state of savagery 
altogether.” 

He told how Vasily, since he had become a coachman, 
only washed his face on Sundays, and had got into the habit 
of never using a towel, wiping his face against the pillow, and 
letting his hands dry of themselves. 

“‘Tt makes one’s hands and face coarser,” Vasily explained 
in a matter-of-fact tone. 

He paid no further attention to his friend’s jokes, but 
sipped his tea with pensive imperturbability, as if they were 
laughing at somebody else. 

The tea over, Vasily and Vulitch left, Andrey remaining 
behind for a time. It was not wise for them to be seen all 
going out together. Andrey rejoined them in one of the 
squares, just out of sight of the inn. 

It was already growing dark when they approached the oak 
wood upon the eastern side of the town. The wood was 
empty, as it was a week-day. The fresh evening breeze 
brought to them the sound of a distant melody, sung in an 
agreeable though not very strong baritone. 


134 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“*T recognise the voice,” Vulitch exclaimed. “It’s Vatajko 
who is singing.” 

She seized Andrey’s arm in order to make him walk more 
quickly. She was passionately fond of music, this daughter of 
the south, and was a singer herself. 

Following the direction of the voice, they soon came upon 
a little green patch of field on the border of the wood, encircled { 
upon three sides by a thick wall of trees. On the fourth side 
it was bordered with bushes, screening it from view without 
shutting out of sight the suburbs of Dubravnik and the 
meadows which stretched to the right and left. 

The singer was sitting underatree. Hewasa very young man, q 
who looked twice his age, thanks to the luxuriant growth which : 
covered his cheeks and chin. He wasa fellow-student of Vulitch. a 

A lady in a dark-blue dress stood by listening. She was of 
middle height, and rather slim. The very delicate white skin, 
the fair hair half circling with short curls her mild lovely face, 
and her eyes of the purest blue, made her look something 
between an angel and a pet-lamb. 

She introduced herself as Voinova. 

“Varia? Oh, I beg your pardon for the familiarity! Varvara 
_ Alexevna?” Andrey said, interrogatively. 

“Ves, Varvara Alexevna, or Varia, which I like better,” the 
young woman said kindly. 

She was a well-known woman, this Varia Voinova. Her 
friends were justified in naming her the mother of the afflicted. 
Wife of a surgeon of liberal views, she had made the looking 
after of political prisoners the chief object of her life, doing all 
that she could to alleviate their sufferings, as if they had all 
been members of her own family. 

“Tt is well that I have met you both,” she said, with a 
smile, to Andrey and Vasily, whom she saw also for the first 
time. ‘When your turn comes, I shall take care of you with 
the more heart.” 

They thanked her for her promise, protesting that they did 
not intend to give her the opportunity just yet. 

The sisters Dudorov were in the wood collecting dry wood 
for the fire that was to be lighted. Attracted by the sound of 
new voices, they came out, followed by a young man in a grey 
blouse, with pale eyes, pale yellow hair, and a button-like nose 
set in a comical face. He held in his arms a big bundle of 
wood, which he threw on the grass. 














BIDING THE TIME. 135 


* Ah, Botcharov!” Vulitch exclaimed. ‘Come here, I 
want to introduce you to my friends.” 

Botcharov was one of the members of the Dubravnik branch 
of the League. He was a “legal” man, that is, a man who 
lived under his real name, with a genuine passport. But he 
had recently got into some trouble with the police. 

They sat down on the grass, and Andrey expressed surprise 
at seeing Botcharov moving about so freely. He had been told 
he was strictly watched. by the police. 

“So I am,” Botcharov answered, with a serious air. ‘‘ But 
I made an arrangement with the spy appointed to watch me, 
and we get on very well together. He comes once a week to 
my rooms, I give him my instructions as to the places I choose 
to say that I have visited, and he doesn’t bother me with his 
presence any further.” 

Vulitch thought it must be very expensive to obtain such 
immunity. 

“Oh, no!” Botcharov exclaimed, “ I’m not such a fool as 
that. It won’t‘cost me a penny. I compelled my man to sur- 
render at discretion.. One day, a fortnight ago, when I was 
quite tired of having him constantly at my heels, I came out in 
the morning, a piece of bread and sausage in my pocket, and 
began to walk from one place to another, never stopping for a 
moment. So I walked and walked, until the evening came, 
my spy dragging himself always at my heels. I was exceed- 
ingly tired, but I knew he must be more tired still, for he 
had not eaten since the early morning. And I shouted to him 
now and then, ‘Ah you blackguard, I’ll make you put your 
tongue out! I'll make you walk until the dawn, and you dare 
not leave me, for I forewarn you that Iam going to make a 
visit to a great revolutionist.’ My man followed me sullenly, 
without answering, until he could hold no more, and burst forth 
indignantly, ‘I am also a man, sir, and not a dog. You ought 
to be ashamed to treat me as you are doing. I have a wife 
and children to feed, sir.’ 

“Who would suppose that these scoundrels had wives and 
children? Well, I relented, and proposed to my man the 
agreement, which he at once accepted, to our mutual satisfac- 
tion, and I am a free man again.” 

A new guest, who was late, joined them at this moment, 
apologising for being detained from the pleasant company by 
his many occupations. It was a certain Mironov, formerly a 


136 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


clerk to a village community. The sisters Dudorov and the 
Dubravnik people in general thought much of him on account 
of his close connections with the peasants, so that to some extent 
he was the lion of the season. 

He had been invited on purpose to meet Andrey and 
Vasily, with whom he at once entered into conversation, with 
the peculiar ease of manner of a man who knows himself to be 
a celebrity, and is quite sure of being interesting to everybody. 

“Mironov! here is Voinova, who is burning with im- 4 
patience to make your acquaintance!” the elder Dudorov 
shouted, laughing. 

“No, not at all!” Voinova protested. 

“Yes, yes! come here!” 

Mironov smiled at Andrey apologetically, as if to say, “I 
can’t help it! I wish I could remain with you, but every posi- - 
tion has its inconveniences.” 

“What a disgusting man,” Vulitch whispered to Andrey, 
when he was gone. ‘I should not have come if I had known 
he would be here.” 

“Why? What have you against him?” Andrey asked. 
“They say he is a remarkable propagandist among the 
peasants.” 

“He says it himself, so we must believe him. Perhaps he 
is. But he is hateful to me all the same.” 

The pile in the meantime had been lighted, and the black 
iron kettle hung over the fire. Vasily undertook to superintend 
the cooking of the maize porridge and bacon for their supper. 

It was now quite dark outside the circle lit by the fire. 
The sky hung heavy over the wood, a few stars sending their 
pale rays through the opening made by the lofty trees. The 
lights were kindled in the town, which seemed to have ex- 
panded, and at the same time receded to a greater distance, 
looking like a huge island separated from them by a vast sea of 
darkness. 

All sat down in the rel light of the fire, looking silently at 
the puffing kettle. Vasily was minding the fire, and stirring 
the porridge now and then with a long spoon. His shadow, 
as he moved round, now stretched enormously upon the level 
ground, now crept up the stem of some old tree, now broke in 
pieces and melted away upon the irregular wall of projecting 
branches fantastically lighted from below. The beetles were 
humming in the air, piercing for an instant the sphere of light 

















' BIDING THE TIME. 137 


and then disappearing into the darkness. The crackling of the 
fire made the silence around seem absolute. 

‘Just the time for telling ghost stories,” said Vulitch. 

“Why not for singing something?” said Masha Dudorov. 
“‘Vatajko, Vulitch,” she proceeded, “ why shouldn’t you manage 
a chorus for us?” 

Some Russian songs were tried, but with little success. 
Vatajko and Vulitch were the only singers, and Botcharov sang 
out of tune on purpose to make fun. 

Vulitch was saving her voice, and sang second. She knew 
her turn was coming, and she wanted to sing to-day with all 
her soul and power. 

The southern element was strongly represented in. the com- 
pany, and soon clamoured for a genuine Ukrainian song. 

Vulitch consented. 


**What shall I sing?” she asked Andrey, who was sitting 
next her. 


“The one which you'll feel most,” he answered, defer- 
entially. “. 

Vulitch gave a knowing nod. 

She took off her jacket, that it should not be in her way, 
and rose to take her place at some distance from the rest. 
For a moment she stood thoughtful, her face serious and 
almost stern, and then she began to sing. Her half-closed 
eyes were looking far away, and she seemed engrossed by the 
song. Yet she felt that Andrey’s eyes were riveted upon her, 
and that he was admiring and wondering. ‘This excited and 
stimulated her, and gave to her song a peculiar charm for 
herself. It was one of those many records of the epoch when 
the Ukrainian Cossacks carried into the south-east the war of 
the cross against the Mahomedans,—a ballad about a young 
Cossack who left his home and his sweetheart, and went to the 
land of the infidels to liberate from chains and slavery his 
comrades pining in the Turkish prisons. 

Vulitch was not a professional singer, though she might 
have become one had she cared for it. Hers was a voice that 
could fill space. Within the four walls of a sitting-room it 
hurt the ear by excess of strength. She would have done 
much had she gone through a regular training. But no train- 
ing would have taught her to sing better than she sang the 
songs of her country. She was born in the bosom of the people, 
amidst the wide steppes out of which these broad and thrilling 


138 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


melodies have grown. She sang them as only the natives can 
sing, and her voice was soft and tender under the sky vault, in 
the calmness of the night, as she sent forth wave on wave of 
melody across the sleeping steppes. 

She was not applauded or in any audible way encouraged 
by her audience. Only Masha whispered to Botcharov that she 
had never heard Annie sing so well as that day. Vasily 
frowned at the fire, leaning his cheek on his hand, and nodding 
his head now and then. Andrey had moved away a little to 
hear better, and to be quite alone. 

The girl did not see him, but she felt where he was. When 
she had finished her song, she turned towards him at once, her 
face flushed with artistic excitement, and with the consciousness 
of success. With a light bound she was by his side, and dropped 
upon the grass without giving him time to spread out anything 
for her. She looked exceedingly pretty in that charming dress 
for a girl, the national Ukrainian costume. Instead of a 
bodice she wore a loose white chemise, open at the throat, and 
richly embroidered in red and blue. A broad scarlet ribbon 
tied round her slender waist fell over a short dark-blue skirt. 
Her long brown tresses were plaited in with ribbon, and 
several rows of corals were fastened round her bare throat. 

“One would willingly go and fight the Turks,” Andrey said 
to her, ‘“‘only to be sung about afterwards as you have sung 
to-night.” 

“You liked my song? Iam so glad. I sang it for you,” 
she whispered, “and it’s all about you. Iam sure you will 
succeed in breaking our friends’ chains, as my Cossack did.” 

“Tt will be your success too, Annie,” Andrey answered, 
“for you have as great a share in it as I.” 

‘““No, we women can take no part in Cossack deeds, and 
we have no share in the Cossack’s glory,” she said, in a tone of 
regret. ‘We can only hold your horses, and bring you the 
sword and the rifle. But we are not going to grumble; we 
are glad enough to do even that,” she added cheerfully.- 

Under the action of some inner fire, her eyes glistened 
more brightly, her cheeks glowed with intensity of life and joy. 
Ordinarily silent, she was all gaiety that night, animating every 
one with her frolicsome dare-devil spirit. 

The supper was very merry and very bad, because Vasily, 
most careful when there was no particular need for it, forgot to 
stir just at the critical moment, and allowed the porridge to get 








BIDING THE TIME. 139 


burnt. Then Vulitch proposed they should all jump across 
the fire, as the peasant girls and lads are wont to do in the 
midsummer nights. She jumped herself with Andrey, with 
Vatajko, and Andrey again. Then she sang them “The 
Moon,” an Ukrainian love song, with such sweetness and 
melancholy that Vasily was on the point of bursting into tears. 
And when he implored her to sing it again, she burst forth 
with the merriest song she knew, brimful of the pure sparkling 
fun of the Ukrainians, which to the impassioned vehement 
merriment of the Great Russians is as the song of the skylark 
hovering in the morning aky. to the cry of the sea-gull playing 
with the storm. 

She delighted in her power of swaying at will the feelings 
and emotions of others. She liked to see how Vasily’s face 
brightened on-a sudden, how he made a gesture with his 
hands as if throwing something to the ground, and how his 
heavy shoulders moved as if he were on the point of jumping 
to his feet and dancing. 

But her own heart did not share in the gaiety she was 
rousing in the hearts of the others. It grew sadder and sadder 
as she went on with her merry song. At the end her strength 
failed her; a rising sob contracted her throat, and her last 
joyful note broke down pitiably. She had to make an effort to 
keep back her tears, 

She sat down at a distance, alone, and nothing could 
induce her to sing any more. She hardly spoke for the rest of 
the evening; her only wish was now, that the party should 
break up and she might be alone. 

Of all those present, Andrey was the only one to whom 
that broken note said something, nay, everything. He was 
already to some extent prepared for the revelation. The girl 
was too careless in keeping the secret which was burning in 
her heart. 

He could doubt no longer. She loved him. And he— 
what had he to give in exchange for this greatest of treasures 
—a woman’s soul? Mere gratitude and friendship, which she 
would not know what to do with. 

He tried to tell himself that he felt sorry for this discovery. 
But he knew he was not. There are men of exceptionally 
delicate nature, in whom an unhappy love produces a peculiar 
kindness and tenderness for women in general. Andrey was 
not of their number. Disappointed in his love for Tania, he 


I40 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


could not help feeling revengeful against women in general. 
His first feeling now was that of cruel satisfaction. The 
humiliation to his man’s pride was wiped away. The idea 
that this did not make him a whit happier only came later. 
Now he felt proud and elated. 

They had to walk back to the town together. At the 
gates the party broke up. Andrey and Vasily proposed that 
they should accompany the girl to her house. But she 
declined energetically ; she was in no need of an escort, and 
could find her way easily alone. When Andrey wanted to 
insist she grew angry. | 

Andrey and Vasily went to their inn. Here a surprise 
awaited them; upon the hall table lay a letter directed to 
Andrey. The waiter on duty was sleeping on the bench. 
They awakened him, and were informed that the errand boy 
from the “office,” to which Andrey was supposed to go every 
morning, had called in his absence and left this message. It — 
was an open note, containing a few words, roughly scrawled 
and badly spelled, requesting Andrey to be at the office 
to-morrow morning at ten instead of eleven. 

The message could only be from Zina, and it meant that 
something had happened. Without some great necessity Zina 
would not have interrupted the regularity of their proceedings. 





—_”: Um 7 ry - 


CHAPTER, I V. 


A NEW PLAN. 


HEY were to meet that morning in the public gardens. 
Half-an-hour before the time Andrey was on the 


bench at the bottom of a secluded walk. He saw 
between the trees Zina’s light-brown dress, and went to meet 
her half way. 

“*What’s the matter?” he asked. 

She did not answer at once. A gentleman taking his 
morning stroll happened to pass by at the moment. For some 
time they walked in silence. Zina’s face was grave and pre- 
occupied ; something had evidently happened, though Andrey 
was unable to guess of what nature. 

“Well?” he asked, when they were out of anybody’s 
hearing. 

* All is ruined again,” Zina answered, looking him in the 
face. “The passage has been discovered by the gaolers.” 

Andrey stopped, aghast. 

*‘ Discovered !” he exclaimed. 

“Last night. But let’s go to that bench. [I'll tell you 
everything.” 

They sat upon Zina’s favourite bench. It was secluded, 
and at the same time allowed any person approaching from a 
distance to be seen. 

Here the young woman related briefly how the thing 
happened. Kunitzin had just descended into the passage 
to dig out the last few feet of earth, when a row occurred 
among his fellow-prisoners. They were playing at cards. One 
of the players had cheated, and another flew at him with a 
knife and wounded him in the shoulder. The guards ran in 
at the noise. Kunitzin had hardly time to jump into his bed ; 
but he had not time to put back properly the board that 
covered the opening of the passage. One of the guards 
stumbled against its projecting edge, and in a moment had 
discovered the passage. 


142 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 





Andrey looked at Zina attentively whilst she was speaking, 
but he hardly listened to what she said. ‘Their plan was 
ruined, that was the only thing he realised clearly. 

“That’s the fruit of our procrastination!” he exclaimed 
reproachfully. 

He was so aggrieved that he did not think how unjust and 
cruel was his remark. 

“We might have fared much worse if we hadn’t been 
cautious,” Zina replied calmly. “If the gaolers had got wind 
of the thing beforehand through Zuckat, a trap would have 
been laid and all our people caught. Now we have only to 
begin the thing over again.” 

* For the third time, I suppose!” Andrey put in peevishly. 

“No, for the fifth. We have tried and abandoned three 
different plans before we started this one.’ 

“What will be our next move, then? Have we anything 
left us?” Andrey asked, trying to be calm. 

“Something will turn up, I — We must sees 
Boris may suggest something. ... Our money is running 
short—that is the worst of it.” 

A long pause ensued, both keeping to their own thoughts. 

Zina broke the silence. 

“T am informed that the attorney has received from St 
Petersburg the order to push on Boris’s trial.” 

She had learned this from the wife of one of the officials 
connected with the prosecution. It was her habit to com- 
municate to Andrey all her news. 

“What does it amount to?” Andrey inquired. 

“To nothing particular. They'll have to undergo some 
new interrogations ; that is all.” 

*‘ Are the interrogations made in the precincts of the gaol, 
or are the prisoners moved elsewhere?” Andrey asked, an 
idea flashing into his mind- 

“The interrogations are made in the city,” Zina replied. 
“The examining commission thinks it derogatory to their dignity 
to go after their victims. ‘The prisoners are brought under 
escort to the court where the commission holds its sittings.” 

‘‘What if we tried an attempt at rescue on the way?” 
Andrey asked, turning on the bench towards Zina. 

She looked astonished. 

“In the street of a big town? In open daylight? Are 
you in your senses ?” 





A NEW PLAN. 143 


‘I don’t positively propose such a plan. It’s only a 
suggestion which is worth thinking about at all events. Could 
you tell me how large the escort would be?” 

“They were escorted by four gendarmes last time.” 

“Only four! It isn’t so bad as one might have expected.” 

He began now to defend his plan more seriously, urging 
that the danger of attacking a police force by daylight in a 
public thoroughfare was not so great as seemed at first sight. 
If the attempt were actually made, the thing would be decided 
one way or another in half a minute. A crowd would have no 
time toassemble. In all probability at the first shots strangers 
will run away to get out of the scuffle. Moreover, it would be 
easy to choose for the attack a place little frequented by the 
public. ‘The prison stood upon the outskirts of the town, and 
the streets near it were almost empty at the busiest time of the 
day. 

“But you forget one essential,” Zina interposed. ‘There 
is the escort. Four men must be tackled by at least four 
men on our side;admitting as you say the advantage to us of 
a surprise. With the three ‘prisoners, there will be seven. 
Two additional carriages, with two additional coachmen, are 
necessary to carry them all off. Only think what a confusion 
it will be... .” 

“With a little energy on our part we could find money and 
men for it all the same,” Andrey said. 

“Possibly. But it will be a regular battle, and not a 
surprise. It isn’t what we are aiming at. What is the use of 
rescuing the prisoners, if we lose some of their rescuers in 
exchange P” 

Andrey uttered a meditative “‘ Yes,” and moved restlessly in 
his place. His plan was too complicated; there was no 
denying that. 

He did not insist upon it any longer, looking fixedly at the 
gravel beneath his feet. 

He tried in his mind to cut it down here and there; one 
carriage and one assailant might be struck off perhaps; . 
still it was too big a business. . . . 

“But what would you say,” Zina asked, with a sudden 
inspiration, “if the prisoners could be armed ?” 

“That would be capital! But is it possible?” 

“‘T think it is. The warder passes them anything. Once 
before he let them have a bundle of saws and a bunch of keys. 





144 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


He can contrive to pass in three small revolvers just as well. 
I'll inquire at all events.” 

“Yes, as soon as yo can. It will simplify the whole 
thing enormously.” 

The next morning when they met again, Zina was able to 
tell Andrey, to his great delight, that the warder thought the 
thing was perfectly feasible. 

Thus amended the scheme became workable. At the 
meeting of the group it was accepted at once. It was resolved 
that, with the prisoners armed, two assailants would be sufficient, 
with two carriages, to carry them all off. Vasily was commis- 
sioned to buy a new horse and a new carriage, whilst Zina was 
to enter into communication with the Dubravnik people for the 
two additional men, one as coachman and one to fight. | 

But now a new turn of affairs compelled them to hasten 
their preparations, so as to be ready for almost immediate 
action. 

Zina was informed that the prisoners would be summoned 
to the interrogation within a fortnight, if not sooner. It was 
impossible to prepare in so short a time all that was necessary 
for the new attempt. Yet it was impossible to lose perhaps 
their last chance of trying a rescue. 

To cut short all difficulties, Andrey proposed that no 
new man should be engaged. Provided he had a decent 
animal to ride, he would undertake to rout the escort alone by 
a cavalry charge, if the prisoners joined attack from their 
side at the same moment. Boris and his two companions 
were all three resolute men. They would have the advantage 
of two, perhaps three, shots. If they succeeded in disabling 
one man of their escort,—which was not supposing too much, 
—the numerical advantage would be on their side. Four 
of them could rout the rest of the escort. Vasily’s part was 
to be the same. He had only to buy cabman’s clothes, and 
brighten up his carriage in order to make it presentable in 
daylight. ‘The three prisoners could be carried off without 
much difficulty in one carriage. Being on horseback, Andrey 
would be able to take care of himself, and even to cover, if 
needful, Vasily’s retreat. 

The plan was a very risky one; for, after all, the prisoners 
were prisoners. Andrey alone would be free to make the 
assault. Vasily could hardly be of much use, as he had to 
look after the carriage. But Andrey had an unshakable faith 





A NEW PLAN. 145 


in his plan, and he succeeded in imparting that faith to 
his companions. What recommended his proposal to all, 


‘was its simplicity and also its cheapness. The long delays 


had exhausted the funds obtained for the enterprise. Zina, 
who had extraordinary talent for finding money, succeeded in 
borrowing, through Botcharov, two hundred pounds from a 
Dubravnik gentleman, to be returned by the St Petersburg 
friends within three months. But this was all the money they 
could reckon upon for the present. 

The strictest economy was necessary. Andrey’s plan re- 
duced the additional expense to the acquisition of a horse and 
saddle, which was not much. 

“You needn’t get me a racehorse,” he said to Zina, who as 
cashier was more than anybody else open to arguments of this 
nature. ‘‘ A common beast will do very well to impede pursuers 
in cabs, if there should be any. But if there chances to bea 
horseman among them,—a cossack or cavalry man,—racer or _ 
no racer, it’s all over.” 

Andrey’s amended plan was finally accepted unanimously. 
A feverish activity succeeded the somnolent condition of 
expectation. In a few hours Vasily and Andrey had made 
the round of the second-rate horsedealers. They found a 
tolerably good little mare from the steppes with small head 
and straight back. The owner guaranteed that the horse 
was well trained for the saddle. They returned in the 
afternoon with a saddle Vasily bought secondhand. They 
tried the horse carefully, and after hard bargaining brought 
their new purchase to the inn. The next few days Andrey 
spent’ on horseback getting to know his nag. It proved to 
be a high-spirited animal, of tolerable speed, and not very 
skittish. This last point was of great importance, as during 
the coming affray shots would certainly be exchanged. He 
had some trouble in accustoming his Rosinante, as he playfully 
called the mare, to the noise of firearms. When in a secluded 
glade he fired off the first shot by the horse’s ear, she jumped 
under him as if she were mad. But at the second and third 
shots the mare behaved better. After a week’s practice, both 
rider and horse were quite ready for action. A shot between 
the ears made her shiver, but that was al!. The rest of the 
day Andrey spent studying the new field of action and the 
lines of retreat. 

Zina in the meantime was busily engaged instructing 

K 


146 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


the company of sentinels, watchmen, and _ errand-bearers. 
They were eight in number, and had by a series of skilful and 
delicate operations to bring together the assailants and the 
escort at the right place and at the right moment. 

The time when the prisoners would be summoned to the 
hall was known only approximately. The choice of day and 
hour depended entirely on the attorney’s convenience. It 
was therefore. necessary that all through the time that the 
summons was probable, everything should be in readiness for 
action at a moment’s notice. 

The signal to set the whole machine in motion had to be 
given from the prison itself. Before they were consigned to 
the escort of gendarmes the prisoners had to change their - 
dresses, and were searched to the skin in the prison office. 
As soon as they were ordered downstairs, Klein, for whom it 
was most convenient, was to place a piece of blue paper in a 
corner of his window, which he could reach by standing upon 
his stool. 

Every day, from nine in the morning until three in the 
afternoon, when there was a sitting in the hall, this window was 
watched with an opera-glass from the row of houses opposite 
the prison. ‘Two friends had taken a room there. When one 
was tired, the other took his place so as not to lose sight of 
the window for a moment. 

On the appearance of the signal in Klein’s window, one of 
the watchmen was to run downstairs into a public-house where 
Vatajko, who was the errand-bearer, would be sitting in 
company with one of the sentinels. The latter was to give 
notice to his companions, waiting in another public-house, that 
they should move to their posts; whilst Vatajko was to take 
the cab he had in readiness, and go at full speed to give the 
signal to Vasily at his inn. Here everything—men, horses, 
carriage—was kept in readiness for immediate departure. 

Taking into account the time occupied by changing dresses, 
searching, and going through the formalities usual before 
prisoners are handed over to an escort, Andrey and Vasily 
would have ample time to receive Vatajko’s message, and 
to reach the place where they had to wait, before the prisoners 
left the gaol. 

The journey from the prison to the hall ought to take about 
forty minutes. After crossing the prison square—an affair of 
two or three minutes—-the escort would enter a lane, about a 





A NEW PLAN 147 


quarter of a mile long, leading to a newly opened avenue, which 
crossed the suburbs a little to the east of the prison. It was 
wide, and not completely built up. Two rows of freshly- 
planted lime trees, which would not impede the movement of 
a carriage or a horse, ran on both sides of it. ‘There was no 
police station the whole length of the avenue, and only a few 
shops towards the city end. The escort would be in this 
avenue for about twelve minutes. It was resolved that the 
attack should be made here. The spot chosen was some four 
or five minutes’ distance from the corner of the lane. A line 
of five sentinels, each one of them in sight of another, was 
to stretch from the prison square to the avenue, in order 
to communicate instantly by special signals everything of 
importance to the assailants, who were to keep out of sight 
till the decisive moment. 

Everything considered, it was thought better by far to 
make the attempt on the way to the hall. But if this should 
be impossible, from some impediment,—a detachment of 
soldiers or policemen, a funeral or wedding procession, or 
anything of the kind, passing along the street at the critical 
moment,—the attempt was to be postponed until the prisoners 
were returning to the gaol. In this case a change of front 
had to be executed. The attack was to be made at the 
same spot, for there was no better all along the route; but 
Andrey and Vasily would have to wait at another place. All 
the men of the staff—the sentinels and the rest—would move 
toward the hall to form a new line, in order to watch the 
rather uncertain route that the escort might take back to 
the prison, and to send the signals to Andrey. As some 
confusion might easily arise at this place, Zina was to be on 
the spot in person to keep everything in good order. 

The whole arrangement was complicated and delicate. All 
had to work with the smoothness and precision of clock- 
work. ~The slightest hitch or delay might ruin everything. 

To be sure that the whole machine worked well, on 
Sunday morning, when everything was ready, an actual rehearsal 
was gone through. ‘The part of the escorted prisoners was 
played by Masha Dudorov and Botcharovy, the latter carrying 
for fun a big coil of rope on his left shoulder, to make himself 
more like a gendarme with his shoulder-knots. In due time 
the two went solemnly from the prison square to the hall, 
and an hour after back again, the sentinels making their 


148 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


signals as they passed, errand-bearers and assailants going 
through all their respective movements as at the real attempt. 

On the whole all went very well. The time and the 
distance were calculated correctly. The men knew their 
parts thoroughly. Some signals were changed, as they proved 
to be not sufficiently clear at a distance. ; 

It was high time that all should be ready. There was 
reason to expect that the prisoners. would be summoned in 
the next week—either on Monday or Wednesday. As Monday 
passed quietly, and there was no sitting of the commission on 
Tuesday or Thursday, it was pretty certain that Wednesday 
would be the day. 

Vasily was up before six. He examined for the hundredth 
time every screw in the carriage, every nail in his horses’ 
shoes, every buckle in the harness. Everything was in perfect 
order, cleaned and greased as if for a parade. 

_ He gave an extra feed of oats to the horses, and rubbed 
them down with particular care. Then he went upstairs, 
washed his face, combed his hair, and brushed his clothes. 
When the clock struck eight he awakened Andrey, who 
was sleeping soundly, having been at work late on the previous 
evening. 

Vasily lighted the samovar for their tea, and was going to 
the stables to harness the horses, when the door opened 
and Zina entered. 

She had her market-basket in her hand, her grey shawl 
wrapped round her head, and falling over her shoulders. 

She may have dropped in by chance to suggest something 
new. Often things were thought of at the last moment. So 
at least Andrey said to himself, to remove his misgivings at the 
unexpected visit. But when the young woman took off the 
shawl, which covered her mouth and chin, and Andrey saw 
her pale agitated face, his heart sank within him. 

*‘ Another misfortune!” he exclaimed. 

“No. But read that,” Zina said, handing him a telegram 
from St Petersburg, which he read at a glance. 

It was from Taras Kostrov, and was couched in the terms 
of an innocent commercial message. But its meaning was 
only too grave. ‘Taras, speaking evidently at the bidding of 
the committee, requested that their attempt should be post- 
poned for three days. 

It was evident that something very important, which 





EEO ee 


A NEW PLAN. 149 


had to take place at St Petersburg the next day or the day 
after, would be frustrated in some way if the telegram about 


_ the Dubravnik attempt reached the police beforehand. 


Andrey, as well as Zina, had sufficient experience to know 
that such untoward coincidences were very possible. But 
they knew also—Andrey at all events knew—that as the matter 
stood now, to accede to such a request might mean sacrificing 
their scheme altogether. 

“How do you like that?” Andrey said sarcastically, 
passing the telegram to Vasily. 

For answer Vasily crumpled the telegram in his fist and 
threw it upon the table with a long whistle. 

“And I had greased the carriage and cleaned the horses 
so well for to-day!” flashed across his mind, amidst his deep 
regret. 

Andrey wanted to make short work of this new hindrance. 

“It’s too late for us to put it off,” he said. 

“Certainly not,” Zina answered. “Since it is not yet done, 
it can easily be postponed.” 

* But this will mean giving-it up altogether. It may be 
our last chance.” 

“ Perhaps,” Zina said. 

“Well,” retorted Andrey, growing obstinate; “I don’t 
think they have the right to ask such a thing; and if they do, 
we are fully justified in carrying out our plan to the end. It 
has been decided upon, mind that. We work at it for months, 
we are on the point of bringing it to a happy conclusion, 
and now, for the sake of some new scheme, perhaps a mere 
fancy project, we are asked to give up an affair in which the 
lives of three persons are involved! No, that is too much. 
Nothing will ever be done if our party adopts such tactics as 
this.” 

_ Zina fired up, as if these words were meant as an offence to 
her. 

** Don’t talk nonsense, Andrey!” she exclaimed. “ They 


_ know very well how the matter stands with us. Do you 


suppose they. are unable to weigh just as well as we can here 
what is risked by adelay? If they send us such a telegram, 
their affair must be more important than ours. You know 
yourself that we must give way.” 

These were her words. And the look in her large grey 
eyes said to him at the same time :—‘“‘ Why do you torment 


150 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


me to no purpose? Do you think I am less concerned in the 
matter than you? or that I have not had over and over 
again all these thoughts myself?” 

Andrey bit his lips nervously, and did not insist any further. 

* Are they ”—-he meant the prisoners—“ forewarned that 
nothing will be done to-day?” he asked. 

*‘T had no time to do that,” Zina answered. ‘The telegram 
came yesterday night long after my meeting with the gaoler. 
They'll see nothing and nobody in the streets, and will easily 
guess that nothing can be done.” 

“No, this must not be. They will simply conclude that 
we have not had time to come to our posts, and will expect 
that the attempt will be made on their return. They must 
be forewarned at once. Perhaps they will beable so to 
manage as to necessitate a second examination.” 

’ “ That’s true; but how can we warn them now?” 

““Why should we not go to meet them in the street? 
Seeing me on foot with you, they will understand that we 
came simply to see them, and that nothing can be done to-day.” 

Zina was much pleased at the proposal. But she feared 
the men of the escort might notice Andrey’s face, and have 


some suspicions if they recognised him on another occasion on 


horseback in another dress. 

“‘ Confound these precautions !” Andrey exclaimed. ‘ They 
will not remember my face more than any of the hundreds of 
people they will meet on the way.” 

Vasily sided with Andrey, as he usually did, and Zina 
yielded. ‘They left at once. 

When they had gone a few hundred steps from the inn 


they saw a cab coming toward them at full speed. Vatajko’s. 


hairy face peeped from behind the shoulder of the driver, 
to whom he was saying something. 

* Hallo! stop!” Andrey shouted. 

Vatajko jumped from the cab. He was bringing the 
message that in Klein’s window the signal had appeared. 
The prisoners were summoned to the court. The sentinels 
were all at their posts. 

* Run back and dismiss them,” Zina said. ‘‘ They mustn’t 
be seen in the street. ‘There’s nothing to be done to-day.” 

Seeing his troubled face, she added, “ It’s nothing particular ; 
only a delay of three days.” 

Vatajko hastened back to fulfil his new mission. Zina and 


— 





A NEW PLAN. 151 


Andrey went to the avenue, where they expected to meet the 
prisoners. 

It was a cold autumnal morning, such as a sudden north 
wind brings over the warm damp country. A fine cold 
rain began to fall, cutting face and hands with its oblique 
drops. As they walked on the rain increased, making the 
passengers in the streets run plunging their shivering necks 
into their coat collars. Zina opened her umbrella. Andrey 
had none, as he belonged for the time being to a class 
which is not much in the habit of umbrella carrying. But 
he did not mind the inclemency of the skies. 

“What beautiful weather,” he observed, with a sigh, 
pointing to the street. 

Zina smiled, and nodded assent. 

It was splendid weather for an affair like theirs, and it was 
a pity to lose such an opportunity. Even the most frequented 
thoroughfares were almost empty. 

When they turned into the lime-tree avenue, whose whole 
length they could see from end to end, both started. 

“There they are!” they said together, in a subdued voice 
without moving their heads. 

Through the veil of the thick rain they saw their friends 
advancing up the middle of the street. Two gendarmes 
marched in front, two in the rear. The three prisoners were 
in the middle. Soon they could be seen clearly, and could 
see their friends in their turn. 

Of the three Boris alone looked strong and healthy. He 
marched in the middle, his long chestnut beard flying in the 
wind. His face expressed the pleasure he felt at the un- 
expected meeting, without a shade of concern as to its 
significance. Levshin and Klein were pale, perhaps from 
ill-health, perhaps from emotion. 

The two groups of friends advanced towards each other, 
all maintaining the appearance of complete indifference. The 
nearer they came, the more urgent it was to suppress every 
sign of caring for, or even so much as noticing, each other. 
Yet they saw and felt each other without looking. 

Zina slackened her pace. They advanced now as slowly as 
possible, but the distance between the two groups diminished 
with extreme rapidity. To prolong for a few moments the 
intense pleasure and the intense pain of this mute interview, 
Zina stepped beneath the porch of a house, as if seeking 


152 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


protection from the rain. Here-a very ingenious idea crossed 
her mind, which she immediately put into execution. 

Raising her umbrella handle above her head, she glanced 
at Boris, and began to knock at the door of the house 
with the air of a mistress who knows she is expected and 
does not wish to ring. 

Andrey was somewhat surprised that Zina should knock at 
the door of a strange house, but he at once guessed that 
there must be something behind it. In fact, Zina was tele- 
graphing to her husband a message in the prison knock 
alphabet, in which each letter is represented by a small number 
of differently modulated knocks. Both Zina and Boris had 
spent several years of their youth in prison, and could read 
the knock language by sight as well as by the ear, just as 
experienced officials can read a telegram as it is tapped out 
by the receiving apparatus. 

The words Zina communicated to Boris were: ‘ Get another 
examination.” She knocked out her message so quickly, that 
she finished before the prisoners had passed. A slight, hardly 
perceptible nod of Boris told her that he understood, and 
would act accordingly. 

At this moment the door at which Zina was knocking 
opened, and a housemaid appeared to inquire what the lady 
wanted. 

Zina asked whether Colonel Ivan Petrovitch Krutikoff— 
the first name that came into her head—was at home. Being 
told that this was the Protopop Sakharov’s house, and no 
Colonel Krutikoff was known in the place, Zina apologised for 
her mistake and went off. 

The prisoners were already at a distance. 

Zina and Andrey returned to their quarters in the best 
spirits. ‘They were sure now that the delay would have no 
evil consequences. 











CHAPTER V. 
THE FIGHT. 


ETTERS were exchanged between Boris and Zina the 

same evening. Zina explained to the prisoners the 

cause and the extent of the delay. Boris informed 

his friends that he had acted in accordance with the hint 

given him; a new examination was sure to take place at the 

next sitting of the commission. This would be on Saturday, 
as there was no sitting earlier. 

On the Friday the affair which caused the delay came off 
in St Petersburg, and Andrey and Vasily both congratulated 
themselves that they had. followed Zina’s advice. Nevertheless, 
as he said good-bye at their last interview, Andrey warned her : 

“If you have to-night another telegram like the last, don’t 
bring it to our place to-morrow. We'll on no account stop 
now, and it will only disturb our peace of mind to no 
purpose.” 

“You needn’t be afraid of that,” Zina answered; “such 
things don’t happen every other day.” 

They sat once again—for the last time—upon the same 
bench, where three weeks before Andrey learned the failure 
of the old plan of escape, and where they laid the basis 
of the new one. 

They thought, but did not speak of the morrow. ‘There 
was nothing to say; all was settled, and nothing could be 
altered. ‘They had provided all that they could, and taken 
all measures which the most careful consideration suggested. 
Now the course of events was out of their control. ‘The 
issue depended upon a hundred accidents, which they must be 
prepared to meet boldly and skilfully, but which they could 
neither estimate nor foresee. 

Zina looked at her watch. 

“It’s time for me to go home,” she said, rising. 

“Good-bye,” Andrey said, shaking hurriedly both the hands 
she stretched out to him. 


Sane 


154 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


They took leave of each other in their simple undemonstra- 
tive way, as they were wont to do every day. They might be , 
watched by somebody, and they avoided instinctively anything : 
unusual in their manner for fear of raising suspicion. ‘Too 7 
much was at stake in to-morrow’s affair for them to omit — 
the slightest precaution. 

Next morning, from nine onwards, Vasily, attired in his 
cabman’s dress, sat outside the gate of the inn, watching 
anxiously the corner of the street. 

At half-past ten Vatajko’s cab turned the corner and drove 
by the inn without stopping. The young man held in his 
hand a white pocket handkerchief—the signal. He even 
waved it slightly in the air, the better to emphasise his errand. 

This was quite superfluous ; but Vatajko was excited, and 
too young to appreciate the excessive sobriety which an old 
conspirator would have maintained under similar circumstances. 

Vasily rushed upstairs to inform Andrey, and met him on 
the stairs. He had seen the signal from the window, and 
descended composedly into the courtyard, fully equipped for 
the day. : 

His horse was already saddled, eating at the manger. He : 
put the bit into its mouth and tightened the girths. Vasily 
had in the meantime turned the carriage toward the gates, 
and, mounting the box, drove rapidly away: With one bound 
Andrey leapt into the saddle, and followed close behind the 
carriage. 

When outside the gate they gave each other a hasty nod 
of farewell, without so much as exchanging a glance. They | 
knew not whether they would ever meet again. But each was 
at this moment absorbed in the business he had in hand. 
They went in different directions, as they had to stand at 
different points before joining in the common action. 

In ten minutes Andrey reached a little out-of-the-way 
square, formerly a market-place, a short distance from the 
city end of the fateful avenue. Vatajko, appointed his special 
sentinel, was already there. He had just dismissed the cab 
in which he came, and had plunged into a narrow crooked 
lane connecting the square and the avenue. Standing in the 
middle of the lane, Vatajko could see and be seen from both 
ends of it, and thus transmit all signals from the avenue to 
Andrey. . 

Passing the mouth of the lane, Andrey saw his sentinel | 











THE FIGHT. 155 


at his post, signalling to him that the prisoners were not yet 
out of the prison gates. Vasily, whom Andrey could not 
see, was already at his post at the opposite end of the lane, 
receiving signals from the line of sentinels that stretched up to 
the prison square. 

Andrey dismounted, and led his horse by the bridle round 
the place as if to give it an airing. A horseman motionless 
in the middle of a square, would have been a sight so unusual 
as to attract attention. He was dressed in a short national 
armiak, under the skirt of which his arms could be easily 
hidden. Passing the lane leading to the avenue, he saw 
Vatajko at his post. His felt hat was on his head; this 
meant that the prisoners were still within the walls of the 
gaol. But at this very moment Vatajko took off his hat, 
and stood uncovered, picking a straw off it. Andrey’s heart 
gave a bound; the prisoners had come out of the gaol; they 
were approaching. 

He did not mount, however, his horse. Holding it by 
the bridle, he quietly went on his way: he had another most 
important signal to receive. — 

The prisoners were to be armed with short revolvers, 
which the gaoler had undertaken to convey to them. As 
prisoners before leaving the gaol are closely searched, it 
was a difficult matter to arm them. The gaoler who was 
helping in the escape proposed putting their weapons in 
the pockets of their overcoats, which he would throw over 
their shoulders in the hall when all formalities were over. 

Everything depended upon the success of this ruse. ‘The 
prisoners, on passing the first of the sentinels, were to make a 
sign to say whether they had the arms. This would decide 
whether the rescue could be attempted that day at all. 

Vatajko, who until then had been playing the part of a loiterer 
looking at the pictures in a stationer’s windows, abandoned all 
attempts at keeping up appearances. He stood, his legs apart, 
in the middle of the lane, watching with breathless attention 
Vasily’s movements. When the desired signal was given, he 
turned round, and ran to communicate the good news to Andrey. 

His work as sentinel was over. ‘There was no longer 
any signal for him to watch for, because Vasily had rapidly 
moved forward so as to be at the place of the coming fight. 
He had to get to his place beforehand, in order that the escort 
might see him there. 


156 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


Andrey, on the contrary, was bound to keep moving 
all the time. He had to arrange so as to meet the escort 
at the right place. It was too early for him to appear as yet 
upon the avenue; he had to wait some five or six minutes 
longer. He made the round of his small square once again, 
still leading his horse by the bridle, and trying to keep at 
his ordinary pace. 

Vatajko walked by his side upon the pavement. 

* Don’t move far from the mouth of the lane,”—Andrey 
was repeating to him his last instructions,—‘‘and don’t be 
excited. If nothing happens, you’ll hasten to tell Zina. You 
remember the place where she'll be waiting? The boulevard, 
third bench from the entrance.” 

‘Ves ; I remember very well.” 

This referred to the possibility of the affair being postponed 
until the return journey to the gaol. But Andrey sincerely 
hoped there would be no necessity for such an undesirable 
delay. 

“Now it’s time!” he exclaimed. 

He jumped lightly into the saddle, Vatajko holding the 
horse’s head for him. 

*‘ Farewell,” the boy said, “the day depends on you.” 

“And on my Rosinante,” Andrey said, smiling, patting 
the horse’s neck. 

With a friendly nod, he rode at a trot into the lane where 
Vatajko had been standing. 

When he turned the corner of the avenue he checked 
his horse, and looked before him. The street was all safe. 
His eyes, as if by magnetic attraction, were drawn to a 
small column, which at the great distance seemed motionless, 
though it was advancing at a regular military pace. 

“There they are, and no mistake!” Andrey said to himself. 
** Whatever happens, the day will not pass in vain.” 

With his longsighted eyes he could make out each of 
the three prisoners, and he noticed that Boris wore a short 
jacket, without his overcoat. He was probably unarmed. 
That was a pity. But Levshin and Klem were all right. 
They would be enough. The prisoners evidently thouglit so, 
since they gave the signal that they were armed. 

On the left side of the street Andrey saw Vasily’s carriage, 
and upon the box Vasily himself. Of him he could only 
see the broad indolently-curved back, in the blue cabman’s 











THE FIGHT. 157 


coat, and the glistening hat. His pose was exactly that of an 
overworked cabman, waiting indifferently for a passenger. 

There was no other vehicle in the street. It was the 
duty of the sentinels, now relieved from their posts, to prevent 
any cab stopping in the street, lest it should be requisitioned 
by the gendarmes for the pursuit. ‘The sentinels had to take 
off every cab to some distant place, and then to repair to 
the boulevard, where Zina was sitting, and wait further instruc- 
tions from her. 

The two parties advanced slowly towards each other, 
Andrey keeping his horse always at a walk. ‘The avenue 
was not crowded ; only a few passers-by were seen here and 
there. But the street was living its merry life in the bright 
morning sun. A stout woman, in an apron fastened very 
high under the breast, pushed along a coster’s barrow, filling 
the air with shrill praises of her wares. Two dirty boys, 
with their mouths open, looked in ecstatical admiration at her 
tempting treasures, wondering why the grown-up people, who 
can do everything’ they choose, passed by so carelessly. The 
windows of the houses were Open. Merry faces were peeping 
out enjoying the fine weather. Loud talk and laughter was 
heard from one balcony. 

To Andrey with just so much knowledge of the future as 
he possessed, there was something strange and wonderful in this 
innocent carelessness of the street, which in a few moments was 
to be the scene of a fierce struggle of tumult and bloodshed. 

The fight had to take place some twenty yards behind 
Vasily’s carriage, so as not to impede the flight. At the 
moment when the prisoners fired, Andrey was to be already in 
the rear of the escort. He was to turn suddenly round at the 
first shot, charging the escort whilst they were engaged in 
the scuffle with their prisoners. He therefore regulated his 
movements so as to pass the escort when they were near 
Vasily’s carriage. With a slight pressure of his leg he directed 
his docile horse into the space between the carriage and the 
escort. He did not look at the prisoners, nor did the prisoners 
look at him, but they were watching each other anxiously. 
Levshin was the nearest to him. Andrey felt almost physically 
his eager inquiring look, and he gave an imperceptible nod 
of encouragement. It was merely a kind of welcome, by 
which he meant nothing particular. But the excited prisoner 
took it probably for a signal. In one flash Andrey saw 


158 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


him draw a revolver from his -pocket, and point it at the 
gendarme walking behind him. ‘Then a shot, and a fierce 
imprecation sounding from the midst of a cloud of smoke 
which for an instant prevented Andrey from seeing anything 
further. 

The affair had begun. Wheeling the horse round, Andrey 
drew his revolver and waited, his finger on the trigger. Through 
the dispersing smoke he saw the gendarme, who was not hurt, 
throw himself upon his assailant, and catch him by the throat. 
The next moment Andrey’s revolver was smoking in his hand, 
and the gendarme had fallen to the ground. A scene of unde- 
scribable confusion ensued. 

The gendarmes’ shouts, the women’s screams, the shrieks 
of the passers-by running away in all directions, the clash 
together of the hurriedly closed windows, mingled with the 
noise of the quick random shots. 

Seeing the action taking place too near his carriage, Vasily 
moved forward, stopping at a distance of some thirty yards. 
With his reins in one hand, his revolver in the other, he 
watched the fight and the street, turning fiercely his head 
right and left, his small eyes glistening like those of a wild 
boar. Levshin, freed from his foe, ran towards the carriage 
and jumped into it unmolested. Klein was about to follow 
his example. But the sergeant, a tall strong fellow, who 
brought up the rear, had time to seize his hand and snatch 
his revolver from him. Andrey rushed to his help. The 
sergeant fired at him but missed, pulled to and fro by 
Klein, whom he still held in his grip. In a minute Andrey 
was upon him, and putting his horse on its haunches threatened 
to trample the sergeant down. 

Compelled to protect himself against the horse’s hoofs, 
the sergeant loosed his hold on Klein, who twisted himself out 
of his hands and ran towards the carriage. The sergeant 
jumped on to the right, with the object of turning Andrey’s 
horse round and recapturing his prisoner... But, quick as 
thought, Andrey pushed his horse between them. 

“Youre in too much of a hurry, my friend!” he cried, 
levelling his revolver. 

Two shots were fired at one moment. Andrey hit the 
sergeant in the arm, which fell powerless, dropping the revolver. 
The sergeant’s bullet pierced the skirt of Andrey’s armiak, 
without hurting him ; but it struck Vasily’s horse, which made a 














THE FIGHT. 159 


bound, and at once ran away, in spite of all Vasily’s efforts. 
Two of the prisoners were safe. Boris was left behind. 
But two men of the escort were no longer able to fight. 
There were now two against two. Boris could be carried 
off on the croup of the horse. 

“One more effort and the day is ours!” Andrey said, 
jubilantly to himself, preparing for a new charge. 

Boris was some twenty yards off, struggling vigorously with 
two gendarmes trying to bind him with the ropes of their 
shoulder-knots. He had run away from them, as he was 
unarmed, with the view of escaping by himself in the tumult, 
if he was unable to reach Vasily’s carriage. But he was 
seized, and was now in a very evil plight. 

* Hold out, friend!” Andrey shouted to him, “T’ll be 
with you in a minute.” 

He rushed to Boris’s assistance. But here he made a grave 
mistake. Andrey was a good shot, and it was for him to make 
the best use of this. _ But when he saw a red-whiskered gendarme 
putting a slip-knot on Boris’s elbow, he forgot everything, and 
giving spur to his horse he flew upon them. The sergeant, 
who was wounded but not disabled, ran to join his comrades. 
Andrey charged him full tilt, carrying as it were upon his 
horse’s breast the sergeant’s bulky body, which struck like a 
living battering-ram the red-whiskered gendarme. The man 
fell to the ground, but Boris was dragged down with him; 
and the horse, following the impulse of the first rush, carried 
its rider some distance behind the field of the fight. 

Thus a few priceless moments were wasted, and the chances 
were turning rapidly against Andrey. When he pulled the 
horse round, he saw Boris standing motionless between the 
two gendarmes. He struggled no more; his face was 
distorted with anger, and his eyes were fixed on something 
threatening from a distance. 

“Save yourself! the police!” Andrey heard him shout, 
in a voice which he would never forget as long as he lived. 

He looked back, and an imprecation of despair escaped 
him. ‘Two policemen, attracted by the noise of the shots, were 
running along the avenue. A third had just emerged upon 
the street a little farther off. 

Boris was lost! . . 

But they were far away yet; one more attempt could 
be made. With rage and despair struggling in his breast, 


160 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


Andrey rushed with clenched teeth upon the bullets of the 
gendarmes, with the mad hope of killing all three before 
the police reached the place.. But he was in too great a 
hurry. He fired almost without taking aim, careless of the 
thought that he might as likely as not hit Boris himself. 
What harm if he did kill him? Better to be shot by a friend 
than to be strangled by the hangman! Andrey’s four bullets 
_missed most shamefully, whilst one of the gendarmes hit 
him in the leg. He threw furiously to the ground his empty 
revolver, and seized a second one he had in reserve. 

“Fly! the deuce! they’ll catch you!” the voice of Boris 
rang out from the smoke, more imperatively than before. 

‘The two policemen were upon Andrey. One of them 
seized him by the skirt of his coat to drag him from the horse. 
Andrey turned right round in the saddle, and dealt the man 
a blow with his heavy revolver on the head that sent him rolling 
on the ground. But there was no longer any hope; the 
day was lost. He set spurs to his horse, gathering up the 
bridle that it might not be seized by any one, and in no time 
he was out of the affray. Some parting bullets whistled 
round his ears. He heard behind him the frantic shouts of 
the gendarmes. 

But woe to the man who should have tried to stop him 
at this moment! Fortunately nobody did try.. His mare, 
which seemed to be as anxious as he was to get out of the 
unpleasant place, carried him off at a speed that did honour to 
her devotion. In half a minute he was at the end of the 
avenue, the open fields lying before him. But he did not 
choose to gallop that way. ‘i'urning to the left, he plunged 
into a labyrinth of small streets of the old working-class 
suburb. Slackening his speed to a trot, Andrey turned several 
times to the right and to the left, so as to confuse his pursuers 
when they inquired after the direction he had taken. Finally, 
he chose a narrow dark passage, in which only two small 
children were to be seen, and came out through it upon an 
open road. Here once again he put his horse to full speed, 
flying like an arrow over the soft unpaved ground. 

At the south-eastern gate he saw a policeman on duty 
looking at him as he passed. 

Andrey turned into the street that led into the town, 
knowing that the policeman would report this when questioned. 
A few blocks on he turned once more to the right, and 








THE FIGHT. 161 


emerged again upon the open space, resuming his former 
route. 

When he saw the wooden crosses of the ancient cemetery 
he checked his horse. This was the end of his journey. 
There was no need to go farther; he was now at the opposite 
end of the town, three miles away from the place of the 
encounter. The police would spend two hours at least in 
tracing him. He was practically out of danger, but there was 
no need to lose time. 

Looking round to ascertain that nobody saw him, Andrey 
dismounted, and, leading his horse behind him, got down into 
the deep ditch of the old cemetery. 

Here for the first time he thought about his wound. It 
was nothing, a mere scratch, which did not impede his move- 
ments. But the blood oozing from it must be stopped, lest it 
should serve as a guide to his pursuers. He improvised a 
bandage. ‘This done, he unfastened a small sack that was 
behind his saddle. It contained a long military overcoat 
of light grey linen stuff, such as poor retired officers wear, 
and a military hat. Andrey put his own hat in the pocket 
and donned his new coat, which gave him an altogether 
different appearance. The horse had to be left behind, to 
become the meagre trophy of the police. In its quality of 
irresponsible creature, it ran no risk of ill-treatment for its 
participation in a political crime. The idea of leaving on the 
animal a note to this effect crossed Andrey’s mind as he 
unsaddled and unbridled it. 

But he was in no mood for joking. Now that the excite- 
ment of the personal danger was over, the poorness of their 
success appeared in full to his mind. 

“What a disappointment! what a fearful blow to Zina!” 
he repeatedly bitterly to himself. 

He left the cemetery, and, sad and heavy at heart, entered 
the town, directing his steps to the new refuge prepared for 
them by Vasily. 





CHAPTER VI. 


VASILY GETS INTO TROUBLE. 


city. Quite a fortnight before Vasily had engaged a 

room in a lodging-house. It was necessary that the 
landlady, if asked to give information about her lodgers, should 
say that Onesime Pavluk—vVasily’s new name—had lived in 
her house many days before the affair of the lime-tree avenue. 
To say the truth, Vasily had another personal object in securing 
a new lodging beforehand,—he wanted a place where he could 
bestow as much of their property as could easily be removed. 
Unless this were done everything would be lost at the inn, 
which they of course had to abandon immediately after the 
attempt. But of these personal considerations Vasily kept 
the secret to himself, so as not to give his improvident comrades 
another pretext for chaffing him. 
' As Vasily was disengaged in the evenings, and did not 
mind the trouble of taking a run of a few miles, he contrived to 
live nominally in two places at once. Every evening at dusk 
he appeared at his new lodgings, a parcel of his belongings 
under his arm, saying that he had just come from his day’s 
work. About midnight, when all the house was asleep, he 
went back, after having disordered his bed so as to make the 
landlady believe that he slept there and left early in the 
morning. 

Vasily persuaded Andrey to make his appearance at the 
lodgings a few days before the attempt, so as to make their 
new place quite safe. He introduced his friend to the landlady 
as his lodger to whom he had underlet one-half of his room with 
board. Andrey was said to be a clerk by profession, having 
often pressing work to do at home. Thus after the attempt 
Andrey was able to stop all day long in the house without 
exciting suspicion. It would be dangerous for him to appear 
in the street during these first days. ‘The town was all upside 


T's new refuge to which Andrey repaired was in the 








VASILY GETS iNTO TROUBLE. 163 


down. The gendarmes seemed to be more anxious to lay 
hold on him than even to recapture the two escaped prisoners, 
against whom they had no personal grudge. A detailed and 
very accurate description of figure, face, hair, eyes, and so on, 
was given to hundreds of spies and policemen, who were on 
the look-out for him everywhere. Andrey’s real name had, 
moreover, transpired somehow, probably in consequence of 
some indiscretion of those who knew it. This of course 
only increased the zest of his pursuers. He had many old 
accounts unsettled with the police, which were now recalled to 
their memory. 

Vasily’s position was a much better one. Though the 
order to apprehend the coachman was as peremptory, the 
spies and agents did not know in this. case whom to seek. 
Andrey had engrossed so much of the gendarmes’ attention 
that they had not noticed the face of his companion. ‘The 
description the excited gendarmes gave of Vasily were in 
conflict with those of the ostlers and waiters of the inn where 
his carriage was found; so much so, that the police came 
to the conclusion that the man who attended to the horses 
in the inn, and the man who drove the carriage at the 
attempt, were probably two different persons. 

Vasily at all events considered himself as safe in Dubravnik 
now as he was before. He appeared freely in the streets. 
He did all the errands, purchased the food, brought Andrey 
newspapers and the news of their friends, which he received 
through Vulitch, whom he met now every two days in the 
public gardens. He did all he could to distract his friend, 
and to dispel the despondency which he saw clearly gnawed 
at Andrey’s heart, though he said little about it. 

In fact, the week Andrey spent in this new hiding-place 
after the attempt was one of the saddest in his life. That two 
of the prisoners had been torn out of the enemy’s hands 
seemed not to console him in the least for the loss of Boris. 
Levshin and Klein were friends for whose sake he would 
not have hesitated one moment to strike a blow and risk 
his life. Had these two been the only ones concerned, he 
would have been the happiest of men. But now he could not 
bring himself to look upon the attempt otherwise than as a 
failure. ‘The loss of Boris spoilt everything. 

It was not exactly pity for Boris which tormented him 
most. At this moment Andrey did not. dwell much upon. 


164 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


the fate awaiting Boris. What made his heart ache was rather 
self-pity not to have Boris there and then, and pity for 
Zina, mingled with a kind of shame that he had disappointed 
her expectations and inflicted such pain on her. But fora 
few blunders of his the day would have ended so differently. 
Boris would be with Zina, and, the quarantine over, he would 
have been with them too. ‘The picture was so enchanting, so 
vivid, and had been so nearly within his grasp, that now he 
wanted to shriek with pain and anger at the thought that it was 
an empty dream, a cruel play of the imagination. 

He did not for one moment admit that Boris should be 
given up altogether. A new attempt must be made. A fresh 
charge would be brought against Boris—that of attempting 


escape. ‘The authorities would try to find out how the plot © 


was contrived. This would cause no end of delay, which must 
be made use of for a rescue. Andrey planned one or two in 
his imagination. But these were vague far-off dreams,—castles 
in the air rather than actual projects. The recent events were, 
on the contrary, burning in his memory. Why did he give 
that foolish nod to Levshin, which made him fire at the wrong 
moment without allowing Klein time to get ready? Why had 
he lost his head when he saw Boris struggling with the two 
gendarmes? Had he but regulated the speed of his horse 
better, or even charged in an oblique direction, he would have 
trampled down one of the gendarmes, instead of throwing Boris 
to the ground. Andrey invented hundreds of combinations, all 
better than those he actually had made, and that would have 
undoubtedly led to another issue. The idea that each of these 
second thoughts might have turned out ill in its own way, 
escaped his mind altogether. He saw only one side of his 
fancies. Success appeared to him so easy, simple, natural, that 
the harsh reality upon which he fell back after these day-dreams 
seemed something monstrous and incredible. 

In the solitude of his temporary seclusion, Andrey’s dark 
mood only grew worse instead of better as the days went by. 
Vasily was much pained to see this. He made some clumsy 
efforts at cheering Andrey. But he was shy and irresolute, 
little accustomed to influence others, disbelieving his powers 
of persuasion, and fearing that he might hurt Andrey’s feelings 
instead of doing him any good. 

He wisely resolved that the best course to follow was to 
let Andrey alone. He would become himself again when 


eS tee 
; ‘ 











VASILY GETS INTO TROUBLE. 165 


he was able once more to mix freely with his friends and 
take part in the common work. It would not be long to 
wait. The paroxysm of police activity had already consider- 
ably subsided ; finding nobody, they came to the conclusion 
that all those connected with the attempt had already left 
the town. It was time for Andrey to relax his quarantine ; 
he would no longer run much risk by appearing in the 
streets. 

All this Vasily communicated to Andrey, who agreed 
with him in an absent sort of way, but seemed in no hurry to 
profit by what he said. 

“There’s an illumination and fireworks in the town to-day,” 
Vasily added. ‘“‘Vulitch wants to go to see them, and she 
said she would call to take you with her.” 

Andrey only shrugged his shoulders. He said he was not 
interested in the least in the illumination or the fireworks. 

“T’ll keep watch over the room. But there’s no reason 
why you should deny yourself this innocent pleasure,” he 
added. ‘‘Go, and you shall tell me what I have lost by 
staying at home.” 

This was not what Vasily wanted. 

“JT can’t go with Vulitch,” he replied, “for I -have an 
appointment with Zina to-night.” 

He left at once, though he knew that he would get to the 
place of meeting a good hour before the time. The girl was to 
come soon, and he thought he had better go and leave them 
alone. He hoped that she would be better able than himself 
to dispel Andrey’s gloomy state of mind. 

Vasily’s kindness and modesty were indeed the _ best 
advisers. In fits of moral sickness, such as that under which 
Andrey was prostrated, a woman’s friendship is the best of 
physicians. For a man will never show to another man 
the heart-wounds that he will confess to a woman. 

After the discovery he had made at the picnic, Andrey 
did not seek Annie’s company, but he did nothing to avoid 
her. ‘They had something more serious to think about, both 
of them, than their hearts’ troubles, and the girl would have 
felt offended had he acted otherwise. They saw each other 
frequently, and became very intimate. 

When the girl came, and had told the news of the day, 
Andrey was the first to lead the conversation to personal 
grounds. 





166 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


**You see, Annie,” he said, “you were mistaken the other 
night in predicting for me a success.” 

He alluded to the words ‘she said at the Dudaroys’ 
picnic in the wood. 

“‘T wasn’t mistaken as to one part of it, at all events,” the 
girl observed discreetly. ‘‘But how is your wound? Vasily 
said it was nothing, but you look very ill.” 

Andrey, with a wave of the hand, assured her that the 
wound was not worth speaking of. He would be as blithe as 
a lark with a dozen wounds like this one, if the affair had 
ended as it ought. 

He spoke of what was troubling him in a strain in ‘iat 
he never spoke to Vasily. He made a clean breast of his 
tardy regrets and bitter self-accusations. 

The girl’s warm and vehement protests did not change his 
opinion. But he was pleased, nevertheless, that she should 
think as she did, although she was wrong. 

“Are our fugitives still at your house?” he asked. 

“No, they left Dubravnik last night for Odessa. The 
town has already settled down again. ‘There’s nothing excep- 
tional in the streets. You needn’t stop any longer always in 
your room, it might look suspicious.” 

She asked him to accompany her to the illuminations, 
and to her delight Andrey consented. 

“T have quite forgotten to give you Zina’s message, to 
bring which I came,” Vulitch said, taking Andrey’s arm when 
they were in the street. ‘‘ Your St Petersburg friends write that 
a girl of your acquaintance has been. proposed by George as a 
new member. George asks whether Zina and you will vouch 
for her.” 

“What’s the girl’s name?” Andrey asked, a sudden flush 
rising to his face. 

He knew only too well who that girl was. ‘There was only 
one girl with whom they all three were acquainted, and whom 
George was very likely indeed to propose. 

“Tania Repina,” Vulitch answered, looking at him sus- 
piciously. 

“Ah, Repina! and it’s George who proposes her?” 
Andrey said, more and more confused. 

The girl’s hand resting upon his arm quivered, and then 
grew stiff as if it were benumbed. 

“Who is this Tania Repina?” she asked, in a stifled voice. 

















VASILY GETS INTO TROUBLE, 167 


“A friend of ours; the daughter of Repin the barrister,” 
Andrey answered, looking straight in front of him. 

The small hand tightened on his arm nervously, and the 
girl slowly drew herself away as if to examine him better. 

“A friend, you say?” 

“Of course, a friend,” Andrey answered, meeting the girl’s 
glance for a moment. 

Annie’s face darkened. Her glistening eyes assumed an 
expression of hostility, almost of hatred. 

“‘Tt’s not true, you love her!” she almost cried, throwing 
his arm away from her. 

Andrey turned to her angrily. What right, he thought, 
has this girl to pry into the secrets he had never disclosed 
to any one? For a moment their looks crossed like two 
glittering swords in a duel. But Andrey, from whom the first 
thrust had to come, turned his head away. 

They went a few steps in silence. When he looked at her 
again, his face was no longer angry, but sad. 

“Well, . . . yes, I love her,” he said. ‘“ Are you satisfied 
now ?” 

“And she, she loves you?” the girl whispered, bending 
her head. 

** No, she does not love me, if you wish to know.” 

The girl bent her head still lower, and began to remove 
with the point of her umbrella something from the varnished 
toe of her shoe. 

** But why?” she asked, drawing herself up. 

There was such naive self-betraying wonder in her tone, 
that Andrey smiled. 

“That can hardly be interesting to you,” he said softly. 
“But there is one thing I wish you to know and remember, 
Annie,” he went on; ‘‘it is that I haven’t said what I have told 
you to a living soul.” 

“Not even to her?” 

“She is the last person to whom I would say it.... 
But let’s speak about it no more. You got me out not for cross- 
examination, but for recreation, and you must keep to that.” 

“Oh, I will,” the girl exclaimed, joyfully, taking his arm 
again, and raising to him her smiling face. “I wish I 
could———” she added, lowering her voice. 

“You'll tell Zina that I give my vote for the admission,” 
Andrey concluded, in a business-like tone. 


168 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 





They were scarcely out of sight when Vasily returned home. 
He felt exceedingly pleased to find that Andrey was out. ‘The 
visit to the illuminations was suggested by himself, and he was 
sure that it would do Andrey much good; Vulitch was just the 
pleasant companion to cheer him up. This Vasily said to 
himself with inward satisfaction, not quite free from a touch of 
envy. He realised so vividly the pleasure he would have him- 
self felt in Andrey’s place ! 

Clumsy and rough in appearance as he was, Vasily was yet 
very tender hearted.. He had fallen in love a number of times, 
but he seemed to have a singular preference for the hopeless 
and silent sort of love, setting his heart always upon the wrong 
persons—women with whom he had not the slightest chance of 
success. It was by her cold inaccessibility that Lena had 
fascinated him. He was still faithful to her in his inmost 
heart. But of late he seemed to have discovered somehow, 
that he might love Vulitch quite as hopelessly as he loved 
Lena. He was not yet in love with the girl, but he had begun 
to indulge in dreaming about her, and in paying her certain 
little attentions which she never noticed. 

Now he gave himself up to the pleasant anticipations of her 
coming. She will probably step up, he thought, and have a cup 
of tea after the long walk. Sitting by the table Vasily waited, 
listening dreamily to the soft noise of the samovar.which he 
kept ready for his friends, when he heard the front door slam, 
and soon after the sound of footsteps approaching his room. 
He rose and opened the door. But instead of those whom he 
expected, he found himself face to face with the police. The 
frightened figure of the landlady was seen behind. 

“There you have it!” Vasily exclaimed to himself in amaze- 
ment. ‘It must be all on account of that damned passport of 
mine.” 

Thus far he had guessed right. 

Vasily’s head was a very queer one. When he acted 
without one moment’s forethought, he showed in the most 
difficult circumstances a surprising ability and fecundity of 
resource. But when he wanted to be particularly clever, and 
set himself to ponder deeply upon something, it often happened 
that “his mind muddled his reason,” as the Russians have it, 
and he committed blunders outrageously gross and comical. 

One of these curious slips of logic he made whilst preparing 
their last refuge. The false passport he got from the Dubrav- 











COT 


VASILY GETS INTO TROUBLE. 169 


nik people did not meet with his complete approbation. 
It certified to the right of the fictitious young man Onesime 
Pavluk, who had completed his studies in a secondary school, 
to be admitted toa higher one. This was rather a gentle- 
man’s passport, and Vasily very judiciously preferred to play 
the part of a common man—an artisan ora pedlar. Taking 
counsel with his superior wisdom, he resolved to improve the 
passport, and to make it unobjectionable by a little scraping. 
Vasily was very skilful in “healing” passports as well as in 
manual operations generally. He washed off the obnoxious 
“higher,” and put in its stead the humble “primary,” in 
exactly the same handwriting as that in which the remainder of 
the document was written. The operation succeeded to his 
complete satisfaction. 

When he imparted his achievement to his companion, 
Andrey laughed at him outright. The passport, according to 
him, was quite spoiled by the correction. It was sheer nonsense 
that the completion of studies in a school of a superior sort 
should entitle a man to admittance to an inferior school. 

Vasily was struck by the truth of this observation, which 

strangely had not occurred to him before. But the friends 
consoled themselves with the consideration that the thing was 
done and could not be helped. The passport was already 
handed to.the police for registration. Besides, the officials 
never read the heaps of passports presented for registration, 
examining only the seals, the signatures, and the outward 
appearance. 
_ “And if they read it by chance,” Andrey suggested, 
laughing, “they'll tax your correction for a slip of the pen, 
for no man in his senses would put such a thing in a false 
passport on purpose.” 

It occurred just as Andrey conjectured. The vartalny, 
or police inspector, happened to read the strange passage. 
But as the passport was perfect in all other respects, and had 
on its back the marks of several police registrations at several 
other police-offices, he did not think the matter worth the 
trouble of a regular arrest. He registered the passport, and 
laid it on one side, intending to bring it in person on the 
earliest opportunity to the owner, to make inquiries, and take 
further action if necessary. 

The appearance of the police surprised Vasily, but did not 
disconcert him. He answered readily the kvartalny’s questions, 


170 ‘THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


giving himself out as a locksmith of Poltava railway station, who 
came to Dubravnik in search of work, but was about to return to 
his old place. With his rough face, hard hands, and plain dress, 
Vasily looked exactly like a common workman or an artisan of 
the town. He played his part of simpleton so well, counterfeit- 
ing with such ability the people’s language, their ingenuousness, 
and even their timidity before the police, that the kvartalny 
dismissed at once all suspicions as to Vasily himself. 

But the landlady informed him that there lived with Vasily 
another lodger, whose passport was not as yet presented for 
registration, and whose description was such as to justify 
curiosity. 

Vasily explained, with the candour and volubility of 
innocence, how by a mere chance he made the acquaintance of 
this Ivan Zalupalov—which was Andrey’s passport name— 
and accepted him as a lodger for so much a week. 

“‘ Have you asked for his passport?” the kvartalny inquired. 

‘“‘ Certainly, your honour,” was Vasily’s ready answer ; “and 
I took it from him, lest he should run away without paying his 
rent. One must be careful with strangers, your honour.” 

Vasily produced from his bootleg the important document, 
wrapped in a rag. 

“But why have you not presented it at once for registra- 
tion?” asked the kvartalny severely. | 

Vasily’s heart went instantly into his boots. His face at 
all events showed it unmistakably. 

“For want of time, your honour,” he stammered. “TI beg 
you to excuse me.’ 

The kvartalny made no answer, but looked displeased. 
Vasily scratched his neck, kneaded the floor with his feet, and 
plunged his hand into his pocket. Producing a small silver 
_ coin, he laid it timidly on the corner of the table before the 
kvartalny. 

“Don’t despise my offering, your honour,” he said, bowing 
low. ‘It’s little, but it’s from a pure heart.” 

“Put it away, you fool!” the kvartalny said, declining the 
modest bribe. 

But he did not think the worse of Vasily for this manifesta- 
tion of loyalty. 

“When will your lodger come back?” he asked. 

“T can’t tell your honour,” Vasily answered, resuming his 
cheerful tone: “He has a partiality for drinking, this man—if 














VASILY GETS INTO TROUBLE. 171 


I dare mention this before your honour. He comes home 
very late sometimes. One night he didn’t return at all.” 

“Well, I'll wait anyhow,” said the kvartalny, taking a stool 
resolutely. “And you, what’s your name?” 

“Onesime, your honour.” 

“Well, Onesime, you go downstairs and tell the sergeant 
who waits in the street to step up. And you come with him 
too.” 

Vasily’s heart fell. All his comedy was to no purpose. 

But he had no choice other than to play his part to the 
end. He executed the errand, and returned accompanied by 
the sergeant. 

Suspecting nothing of the dangers awaiting him at home, 
Andrey in the meantime wandered about with Vulitch. They 
went to the illuminations, and spent a quarter of an hour in 
the public garden. Andrey found no pleasure in what he saw. 
Everything seemed to him irritatingly stupid that night,—the 
fireworks, the illuminations, and above all the childish merri- 
ment of the crowd of grown-up people who found amusement 
in such nonsense. 

They returned early. Andrey wanted to see the girl 
home, but Vulitch objected. Their house was recently 
“‘tarnished” by the stay of the two fugitives. It was better 
he should not come near it. She proposed therefore to 
accompany him to his own lodgings. 

A few houses from his door they stopped. 

““Won’t you step up? it is not late,” said Andrey. 

‘No, I must hurry home ; I promised to be back at ten.” 

They shook hands, and Andrey went in. 

On ascending the dimly-lighted, rather dirty stairs, Andrey 
saw Vasily standing at the top of them. He was barefooted, 
hatless, and in his shirt sleeves. His cheeks were pale. He 
gesticulated violently and strangely. As far as Andrey could 
guess, his friend wished him to keep silent, and not to move. 
He stopped short accordingly. Walking noiselessly with his 
bare feet, Vasily rapidly descended toward Andrey, and BHEIRE 
his mouth to his ear whispered : 

“The police are in our room. Be off as quickly as you 
” 

“The police! then let’s go together,” Andrey whispered in 
return. 

Vasily shook his head energetically in sign of refusal, and, 


can. 


172 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


without any further explanation, he ran rapidly upstairs and 
disappeared, to Andrey’s surprise not into their room, but into 
a small unoccupied lumber-room opposite. 

_ When the grey tape of Vasily’s waistcoat, projecting at his 
back after the fashion of a short pigtail, had plunged into 
the dark room,—no hope of explanation being left,—Andrey 
descended on tiptoe into the street. 

Vulitch had not yet turned the corner. 

“‘An-nie!” Andrey called, in a distinct though subdued 
voice, which went far in the silence of the night. 

The girl turned her head, and moved to meet him. She 
thought that Andrey had forgotten to tell her something of 
importance. 

“It was decreed that I should accompany you to your 
house to-night,” he said ; “the police are in mine.” 

The girl started. 

“The police! Vasily arrested ?” 

“No, he’s certainly not arrested, or they wouldn’t let him 
wait in the stairs to forewarn me.” 

He related their strange interview. 

“What puzzles me most,” he said, “is that Vasily has 
remained in the house, whilst he could so easily have left it 
with me.’ 

“Yes, it’s very strange,” said Vulitch. 

It was a strange adventure indeed, one of those which 
happen only to men like Vasily. 

Having executed the kvartalny’s errand, and ushered the 
enemy into his own room, Vasily sat quietly upon the end of a 
stool in the corner. He looked as innocent and unconcerned 
as one might wish, but he was very uneasy in his mind. The 
time went on. Andrey might return any minute, probably 
accompanied by the girl. 

The two policemen began to talk, the tall sergeant standing 
by the side of his superior and leaning to whisper in his ear. 
Vasily saw clearly how the kvartalny, and after him the sergeant, 
looked at a place by the door, which would be hidden when 
Andrey opened it. 


They were planning how to attack Andrey from the front 


and from the rear at once, the blackguards! 

But how to prevent it? The windows of their room looked 
into the court-yard, so that he could not give Andrey any signal 
of danger. He would hardly be of much use in the coming 








oe 





Bae NAD, ah ty ian 


VASILY GETS INTO TROUBLE. 173 


fight, for he happened to be unarmed, his revolver was in the 
breast pocket of his jacket, which he had taken off before the 
police came, and which he could not possibly reach now without 
exciting suspicions. Vasily was at a loss how to find some ex- 
pedient, when the distant cracking of a rocket suggested a good 
idea to him. | 

“Your honour!” he exclaimed, in a most innocent tone; 
“may I go to look at the fireworks from the window? ‘There’s 
a lumber-room opposite from which all the garden can be 
seen.” 

‘The kvartalny was anxious to be alone with his sergeant. 

“Yes, go if you like,” he said; ‘but don’t go far. You'll 
be wanted directly.” 

Thus Vasily succeeded in escaping to the lumber-room, 
where he spent a very bad quarter of an hour, standing at the 
door and listening with palpitating heart to every noise from 
below. 

When he had forewarned Andrey, he returned to the 
lumber-room relieved and happy, and this time fully enjoyed 
his well-merited amusement. 

He was a peaceful, inoffensive, and rather lazy fellow, this 
Vasily. He disliked trouble of any kind, taking life as easily 
as it was possible for him, and preferring always to smooth 
over or cautiously circumvent all obstacles instead of violently 
breaking through them. 


Ss ee ae 


CHAP.T ER Vik 


ZINA AT HOME. 





in Zina’s house, where Andrey took temporary refuge. 
They all guessed something of the nature of his 
troubles. ‘The police had probably dropped in at his lodgings 
by chance; Vasily had got entangled somehow or other. ‘They 
knew him, and expected him to get clear of his difficulties 
and rejoin them—at the latest the next morning. But the 
morning passed, and Vasily gave no sign. 

They grew uneasy. Zina went to the abode of her friend 
the gaoler, and sent to him through his wife a request to find 
out immediately the names of all the people recently arrested. 
When they met at the usual time, the gaoler was able to assure 
Zina that Vasily was not among them. Vulitch was in the 
meantime despatched into the town to make reconnoitres among 
the Dubravnik people. She returned with the strange but 
comforting news that Vatajko had met Vasily in the streets, 
free, as no escort or policeman was seen at his side. But 
Vasily was evidently in some fix, for he passed rapidly, making 
to Vatajko the sign not to approach or to.speak to him. 

This was a confirmation of their early supposition. Vasily 
had got entangled with the police by some accident, and now 
was playing a game to befool them. 

“We may be easy about him now,” Andrey said. “I’m 
sure he’ll do them, and will be with us before long.” | 

Zina hoped so too. | 

Their new fears having subsided, their old cares and 
anxieties came once more to the front. 

In the evening when tea was finished, and all three were 
assembled in Zina’s sitting-room, no household duties diverting 
the ladies from conversation, Andrey entered upon the matter | 
by asking Zina what were now her views and intentions as to 
Boris. 


[in was considerable uneasiness as to Vasily’s fate 





EE — 








ee ee eee 


7 
ovr 


4 


ZINA AT HOME, 175 


He was walking up and down the small room, his hands 
behind his back, not looking at Zina whilst he put the question. 
“T’ll show you a letter on the subject from Boris,” Zina 
said. “I got it the day after the attempt. I was so upset 
then, that I forgot to send it over to your place; but I have 
kept it for you.” 

She went to fetch from a hiding-place two pieces of paper, 
—one long and narrow, as if cut from a newspaper margin; 
another, a square piece a few inches in area, a fly-leaf from 
some book. Both pieces were covered with closely-packed 
writing in pencil. 

In this letter, written the night following the disaster, Boris 
thanked the friends who had risked their lives for his sake— 
Andrey in particular—in terms so warm and affectionate that 
tears filled Andrey’s eyes. But as matters stood now, Boris 
considered all further attempts at his rescue to be hopeless, 
and likely to involve his friends in ruin. He concluded by 
requesting Andrey to return to St Petersburg at once, and 
the others to disband without useless delay. 

“You don’t think, I hope, this conclusion in any way 
binding for us?” Andrey said, trying to keep calm and matter- 
of-fact. 

“No, I don’t!” Zina exclaimed, vehemently. 

“T am glad you're not discouraged,” Andrey went on. 
“In affairs like this, pluck is everything. People have failed 
four times, and escaped on the fifth ; we shall be luckier next 
time.” 

“Yes ; but on one point Boris is quite right,” Zina proceeded. 
“You mustn’t take part in this affair any longer. You have 
done all a man could. To remain here longer, would be to 
court your own ruin.” 

“The same might be said about yourself.” 

“No, it isn’t the same. ‘The police don’t know me, whilst 
they have found out your name, and are mad against you. 
Besides,” she added, ‘‘there are considerations of a personal 
nature why I must go on with the work myself.” 

Andrey stopped in front of her. 

“Considerations of a personal nature?” he said with sur- 
prise. “I don’t understand you, Zina; or, if I understand 
what you mean, I emphatically protest against your putting the 
matter on the paltry grounds of personal affection. We under- 
took it, because Boris is a man of high value for our cause, not 





176 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


because he is personally dear to some of us. Our feelings have 
nothing to do with it.” 

**T would never allow any one to risk himself for Boris, if 
I thought his rescue was only a personal affair of my own,” 
Zina said. 

“Well, what does it matter then who of us does it?” 
Andrey said. ‘“ You contradict yourself.” 

“No,” she replied. “I spoke of the past.- But now 
things have changed for the worse, and this makes all the 
difference. If Boris was a stranger to me, I should. have 
probably said that the affair must be a up. ButIcan’t.... 
That’s why I must do it myself. . 

She frowned, and bent her head c over the table, which stood 
in front of the sofa on which she sat. | 

“You understand now, I suppose,” she added, in a calmer 
tone, raising her head again, “that considerations of a personal 
nature must also be taken into account sometimes.” 

He sat down on a stool opposite her, and taking her hand 
raised it gently to his lips. 

Zina’s reluctant confession only confirmed what he had said 
to himself long ago. She was consumed by a slow fire. The 
constant suspense, the brooding over an affair on which 
depended Boris’s life, was more than flesh could bear. A 
sudden bereavement was easier to support than this. And 
now her pain had reached a point when reason ceased to 
control her feelings. If she remained in Dubravnik, she 
would do something desperate, and only ruin herself to no 
purpose. She must be dragged away at any price. 

“Listen to me, Zina; and you, Annie, listen too, for you 
must help me to persuade her,” Andrey said, still keeping Zina’s 
hand in his. ‘“ You are quite right in saying that, hunted down 
as I am now, I could not be of much use here. But this can 
be easily set right. What I propose is this: I'll start to-morrow 
for St Petersburg, and will remain there, let us say, a fortnight. 
I'll frequent the students’ clubs, and the drawing-room parties, 
and mix in everything to make as much noise as I can. Thus 
I shall attract to myself as much of the attention of the police 
as possible. And then, when they are quite sure that I am in St 
Petersburg for good, I'll quietly return to Dubravnik. But you 
must entrust things to me entirely, and leave the town altogether. 
Personal feelings must be taken into consideration sometimes, 
as you said. You are killing yourself staying here, and this 








ZINA AT HOME. 177 


must not be. ‘Take it as a prompting of my personal friendship 
for you, if you'll not take it for something better—but don’t be 
obstinate. Accept my proposal, and let us change places! Will 
you? Why do you not answer?” 

Zina sat thinking, her head bowed down upon her breast.: 
It pained her to hurt Andrey by rejecting a proposal made in 
such terms. But she couldn’t help it. 

“No, I cannot,” she said, shaking her head slowly. 

He rose from his stool, and paced twice up and down the 
room. ... 

Vulitch, crouched in the corner, dared not interfere. What 
could she say after Andrey’s appeal ? 

Andrey was silent too. It was useless to argue-the point 
further. Zina had made up her mind to perish, and perish she 
would. . . . He could not stop her, and he had no heart to 
be angry with her obstinacy. She could not act otherwise in 
her particular circumstances, and her motives were good. But 
nobody would be happier for that... . 

“Don’t marry, young man, follow my advice——” Andrey 
burst out, reciting the two lines of a song to give vent to his 
inmost feelings 

He addressed his edifying remark to nobody in particular, 
least of all to Zina, who was past benefiting by the good 
advice. 

But it was Zina who caught the ball he had thrown into the 
air. She was glad of an opening which promised to divert the 
conversation from a subject too painful to her. 

Leaning pensively over the table, she drew with her finger 
some figures upon the cloth. 

‘“‘That’s the moral you draw from the fable, is it?” she said. 

Andrey did not answer at once. Zina, leaning back, 
caressed demurely the yellow Vaska, her favourite cat, who 
sprang upon her knees, anxious to make one of the company. 
With her expectant look she followed Andrey. 

“Certainly I do. How can I help it?” Andrey said at 
last. 

He had tried to accept Zina’s decision with as much inward 
-submissiveness and humility as he could muster. What came 
from so good a woman, inspired by such good motives, must 
needs be the right. He did not hope to see her again, and his 
only wish now was not to spoil the few hours they had to spend 
together. 

M 





178 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


He sat down by her side on the sofa. 

“Those who have to fight such a hard battle as ours, ought | 
to steel their breasts against feelings too tender for us,” he said 
in an absent way. 

He felt downhearted, and was not in the least disposed to 
start upon a new debate. But Zina took the offensive this 
time. The point which Andrey’s remark brought out, was one 
on which she had thought much of late. She did not wish 
Andrey to leave her with the impression that she had come to 
disavow what she had valued so highly before. 

“Why, then,” she asked, with a touch of irony, “do you not 
accept at once Netchaiev’s view, that the more a revolutionist 

-resembles a wooden log the nearer he is to perfection? All 
strong human affections are ties and trammels. Only, what 
would be the use of people who are incapable of having any?” 

“You confuse two very different orders of feelings,” Andrey 
said, evasively. 

Zina wanted to reply. But just then something occurred 
that interrupted their talk altogether. 

“Stop a minute. I heard knocking somewhere,” Andrey 
said. 

They listened. No knocking was heard, but a strange noise 
as if a handful of gravel had been thrown against the window 
panes. 

“Some street boy’s prank!” Zina said. 

They saw nobody in the street. But Vulitch opened the 
window, and looking out of it, exclaimed joyfully in a loud 
voice— 

“Tt’s Vasily !” 

She rushed downstairs to let him in. 

In a minute Vasily’s big figure and beaming face appeared in 
the doorway, a trunk in one hand, a bundle of linen in the other. 

Andrey and Zina rose to meet, to embrace, and to cheer 
him, as if he had returned from a long journey. 

“T told you he would get off clear!” Andrey exclaimed, 
giving his friend a slap on the shoulder which made him totter. 
‘Now, tell us what have you been at all this time.” 

““Oh, it was a troublesome business!” Vasily exclaimed, 
throwing himself on a chair. ‘I can hardly believe I am out 
of it.” 

“‘ Have you been arrested?” Vulitch asked. 

“Worse!” Vasily said, waving his hand. 


a  ——.-- ae 











ZINA AT HOME. 179 


“What? tortured perhaps?” Zina asked, with a smile. 

“Worse than that, I assure you!” Vasily repeated. 

“But what on earth has befallen to you, old fellow?” 
Andrey asked. ‘Tell us all in good order.” 

Vasily then related how the police came, how they inquired 
after Andrey, how he played the simpleton, and obtained per- 
mission to go and look at the fireworks from the lumber-room. 

‘But why did you not make off with me at once after you 
had warned me?” Andrey asked. 

“Well,” Vasily said, scratching his neck, ‘‘it would have been 
the best thing to do, if I only knew what was going to happen 
afterwards. But I thought that the police would get out of the 
way of themselves, and leave me in peace. So I resolved to 
remain for a while.” 

_ “Well, what happened next? Did they stay waiting for me 
long ?” 

“Till past midnight,” Vasily said, indignantly. ‘They called 
me in half an hour after I saw you, and I had to keep them com- 
pany. And the most curious thing is,” he added, in another 
tone, “that it was I who detained them, giving them hope that 
perhaps you might come!” 

A wondering uncertain smile played upon Vasily’s lips, but 
disappeared immediately, and his face became serious again. 

“Well,” he proceeded, “at half-past twelve the policemen 
rose and put their hats on. ‘They were going to the devil at 
last, I thought. Before leaving, the kvartalny instructed me 
not to tell you when you came back a word about his visit, 
adding that he would call again the next day at eight. This 
was an additional bother; but I didn’t want to spoil my pass- 
port by running away, and resolved to wait for him quietly. 

“‘ He came. 

***« Has your lodger returned ?’ 

*** No, your honour.’ 

“«* Where can he be?’ 

** «Don’t know, your honour.’ 

“‘T made sure he would go away for good now. But he 
stuck to me like a limpet. 

***Took here, Onesime,’ he said to me, very kindly, ‘I 
see you are an honest fellow, and I’ll give you three roubles if 
you behave properly. Leave your things here, and make a 
round of the public-houses and coffee-rooms in the neighbour- 
hood ; perhaps you'll find your lodger somewhere.’ 





180 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


§ ‘Yes, your honour,’ I said, ‘but I must start for Poltava 
to-day.’ 

** “Never mind, you have plenty of time before you. You'll 
earn three roubles if you catch your lodger, mind that.’ And 
he gave me instructions :—‘ When you meet him, don’t frighten 
him. Tell him that his passport has been duly registered, 
and returned to you safely. He'll be glad to hear that, and 
will come along with you freely. ‘Then, when you pass the 
first policeman, catch him by the collar, and give him into. 
custody. Do you understand ?’ 

**¢ Ves, your honour,’ I said. 

“Will you do all just as I tell you?’ 

“«¢Certainly, your honour,’ I said.” 

Vasily, in relating the story of his adventure, had entered 
into the spirit of his recent performance. Amidst the hearty 
laughter of his friends he recited his part, exactly as he had 
improvised it before the kvartalny. He bent his head on one 
side, stretched his neck, and twitched his lips, as a man paying 
close attention, and nodded his head in sign of assent with 
tremendous energy. 

‘We left the house together,” he proceeded, ‘‘and I went to 
make my round of the taverns and public-houses. I couldn’t 
help it, for I might be followed and watched by a spy. It 
was then that I met Vatajko in the street, but I preferred not 
to speak to him. At four in the afternoon I returned to my 
house. The Poltava train would start in an hour and a half. 
I might fairly consider my tribulations well over. 

‘“*T settled my accounts, packed my things, and came down 
into the street, thinking what was the best way to join you, 
when, lo and behold! my kvartalny in plain clothes watching 
me, and trying to hide himself behind a corner. The damned 
‘villain! he was after me again. I had no choice but to go to 
the railway station instead of coming to you. I took a cab, 
the kvartalny followed at some distance in another. We 
reached the station long before the time for the train to start. 
The booking-office was not yet open. The kvartalny took 
refuge near the bookstall. I walked up and down, looking at 
the ceiling, the windows, the doors, at everything but my 
kvartalny, whom I am supposed not to see. Yet I did not lose 
sight of him for a moment. I expected that he would be 
satisfied at last on seeing me safe at the station, and would 
leave me alone. But no; he was always there, watching. 








ZINA AT HOME. 181 


The booking-office was opened. People began to put them- 
selves in line to get their tickets. He was still there, the 
villain! I strolled across the hall, and took my place by the 
railing. This would be enough tor him, I hoped. 

‘The kvartalny rose indeed, but only to come nearer, and 
saunter by the booking-office. 

‘**T was greatly perplexed what to do. To take a ticket for 
Poltava, and to get out at the first station? But I had only 
two roubles in my pocket—not half enough to pay my fare. 
To ask for a ticket for the next station, not for Poltava? I 
could not do it, because the kvartalny would hear me, and 
suspect I had deceived him in everything else, and probably 
arrest me. 

‘The people passed on one by one. I came nearer and 
nearer to the window of the booking-office, and still I had no 
idea whatever what to do, and how the thing would end for 
me. : 

“Finally, I was face to face with the clerk. The kvartalny 
was at my back, behind the railings. 

** A ticket for Poltava, third!’ I say, in a resolute, loud 
voice, and I began to unbutton the top of my waistcoat to 
take the money from my bosom. 

“* Be quick ; you are keeping people waiting,’ the clerk 
shouts. 

**¢In a moment,’ I answer, firmly. 

“J pull out from my bosom the cross, I look at it, and 
then I thrust my hands into my hair. 

**¢ Brethren orthodox! I am robbed!’ I cry at the top of 
my voice, and I run from the booking-office like a madman. 

** A crowd gathers round me, and I begin to tell that I had 
a twenty-five rouble note, all my savings, tied with a string to 
the cross in my bosom, but that a scoundrel of a lodger, whom 
I picked up from the street, has robbed me of the money 
in the night and run away. And I wipe away with my coat 
sleeve the tears, the real tears, flowing from my eyes at the 
tale of my misfortune!” 

Vasily’s rough face lit up for an instant with his half . 
wondering smile, which disappeared as rapidly as it came, as 
he resumed his story. 

“When I thought my audience sufficiently moved, I dried 
my tears, seized my trunk, and was off as quick as I could, 


jumping into the first cab I met at the gate.” 








182 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“And the kvartalny,” Vulitch asked, “did he not follow 
you any longer ?” 

“No, he did not. I was so upset with the loss of all my 
property, that I lost sight of him fora moment. But when we 
were fairly off, I turned back and saw nobody behind me. I 
spent the remainder of the evening in moving from one place 
to another, to be sure that I wasn’t followed. He has left me 
alone this time for good.” | 

“He has probably gone home,” Zina said, laughing, “ to 
write to his chief a report upon the wicked tricks the revolu- 
tionists play upon simpletons whom they have ensnared.” 

“But, for goodness’ sake,” Andrey asked, “why did you 
return to the house in the afternoon when once you were let 
alone? ‘That’s what I can’t understand. You could have: 
easily got rid of any possible spy following you without all that 
trouble.” 

Vasily shrugged his shoulders, surprised in his turn by the 
question. 

“ And my luggage which was left there?” he said. 

Andrey burst into a heartier laugh than he had laughed 
during all Vasily’s story. 

“Now, you must certainly see what treasures our Vaska 
went to rescue from the dragon’s claws,” he said to the ladies. 

He moved towards the trunk, with the evident intention of 
exhibiting its contents to the admiration of the company. But 
Vasily snatched it from his hands, and sat upon it resolutely. 
He would not permit such things to be exhibited before the 
~ ladies. 

The next day, Andrey took leave of his friends, and started 
back to St Petersburg, charged by Zina to raise money for 
the continuation of their enterprise. Vasily remained in 
Dubravnik. He very truly observed, that, thanks to his happy 
exterior, he was equally safe anywhere, and he was resolved to 
preserve his allegiance to Zina to the last. There was some- 
thing truly chivalrous at the bottom of Vasily’s character, which 
was seen at its best in his bearing towards women. He had 
always a lady of his heart after whom he was sighing; but, as 
a true knight, he was ready to serve any lady who might be in 
need of him, and to no one else was he so deeply devoted as to 
Zina. 








CHAPTER VIII. 


AN UNEXPECTED COMPLICATION. 


set foot upon its pavement again. ‘The first snow had 
just fallen, and that is a grand holiday time for every 
Northerner. 

Streets, footpaths, benches, roofs, the decks of the numerous 
craft huddled all along the narrow canal which stretched upon 
Andrey’s left,—all was covered with a neat, sparkling sheet of 
virgin snow. The black motionless trees looked fantastically 
transformed under that thick deposit of white down, covering 
even the thinnest twig. The sun was lost in the enormous 
depth of slowly falling snow. But it was exceedingly clear 
below. The bright shadowless ground shone with a soft light, 
which rejoiced the eye and the heart after the dreary dulness 
of the autumnal brown. The air was fresh and bracing, filled 
with the exhilarating smells of the snow and of the winter. 
‘The passers-by, bestrewn with big white flakes all over their 
hats, coats, beards and hair, looked oddly as if at a carnival. 
The faces were merry, the horses trotted briskly. Some sleighs 
glided here and there, their owners proud of being the first to 
welcome beautiful queen winter. 

Yielding involuntarily to the general gaiety, Andrey walked 
rapidly along the Ligovsky canal, hastening towards Lena’s 
house. He had not announced his arrival to anybody this 
time; but he knew that Lena lived now at the canal, very near 
the railway station, and he might easily catch her. 

The girl was just coming out of the gate, a small fur cap 
upon her head, fresh and bright as the day, when Andrey 
called her by her name. 

She stared at him, surprised. Then her face brightened with 
a smile of hearty welcome. 

“There you are once more!” she exclaimed. “I feared that 
after what happened in Dubravnik you would stick there faster 
than ever. But have you returned for good ?” she asked. 


S: PETERSBURG was in its holiday dress when Andrey 





— ” a 





184 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“Yes, for good,” said Andrey. 

Lena was going out on some business of her own, vet 
for Andrey’s sake she resolved to make a circuit and accompany 
him to headquarters. She questioned him about the Dubrav- 
nik attempt, which had made a considerable impression in the 
revolutionary world. Andrey satisfied her curiosity, without 
eagerness, but without reluctance. The change of place and 
of surroundings had blunted the painfulness of his recollections. 
He could now speak of the affair calmly, as of a thing past, 
which must be accepted just as it was. 

“‘ And what is the news in your parts?” he asked the girl in 
his turn. 

‘In the section you mean?” 

cc Yes. ” 

Well, nothing particular. Tania has been elected a 
member. She had her five guarantors, and nobody opposed. 
She has already accepted. I hope we have made a good ac- 
quisition in her.” 

“‘T am sure of it,” Andrey said. 

“She has been working for some time in the Narva district, 
and she does well enough for a beginner,” Lena went on. “It 
is a pity she will have to leave the town.” 

“ Will she?” Andrey asked, with sudden sadness. 

*‘ She goes to Moscow,” Lena replied. ‘‘It was resolved to 
strengthen our section there, which is rather weak. George 
has been commissioned to go on a propaganda trip to Moscow, 
and Tania volunteered to accompany him. She has got good 
connections in the town, who might-prove available.” 

““T see now...” Andrey stammered, turning his face 
aside to conceal his trouble. 

The news did not surprise him. He was prepared to hear 
something of the kind. But the keen chilling pain he felt at 
Lena’s words, showed him how much hidden hope still lingered 
in his foolish heart. 

“You know, people say that they will probably marry soon,” 
Lena went on, innocently, roasting him on a slow fire. ‘‘ They 
are said to have been in love with each other for a long time. 
But I do not believe it; I have not noticed it, anyhow. It is 
probably mere gossip.” 

“Why not? George is a very good fellow,” Andrey said, in 
an honest attempt to be impartial. 

Lena did not suspect in the least that this conversation 





ee oe oe 





AN UNEXPECTED COMPLICATION. 185 


might have any special significance for Andrey. She did not 
notice his trouble, little observant .as she was by nature and 
habit. Love had not yet spoken in her own heart, and love 
affairs in general were matters of the smallest possible interest 
to her. The rumours about Tania and George were for her 
simply a bit of news, and she passed on easily and uncon- 
cernedly to other topics. 

At headquarters Andrey met several friends, George among 
them. He threw himself on Andrey’s neck with an exclama- 
tion of joy. He had also shared Lena’s apprehensions that 
Andrey would remain in Dubravnik. His return was therefore 
a double pleasure to him. 

George inquired anxiously about Zina. Andrey told him 
frankly everything, without concealing his fears as to her posi- 
tion. They talked together easily and cordially. But when 
the others went away, and Andrey remained alone with George, 
both felt a sort of uneasiness. Andrey was burning with im- 
patience to know something about Tania, but he could not 
screw up his courage to ask. And George, as if on purpose, 
did not even so much as mention the girl’s name. 

This was so contrary to George’s usual habit of talking 
about ‘Tania, in season and out of season, that Andrey at once 
concluded that he did it on purpose. George had evidently 
guessed his secret, and abstained from speaking of Tania so as 
not to hurt him. It was very good of him, and Andrey re- 
solved to take the hint. He talked on indifferent topics as 
best he could. Finally, unable to hold out any longer, he 
asked whether Tania lived still at her father’s house. 

“Oh no,” George answered. ‘It was quite impossible, 
because she would have involved him in no end of troubles. 
She lives by herself in lodgings in the district where she 
works.” 

George added nothing more, but he fixed upon his friend a 
look of mingled kindness and melancholy, which stung Andrey 
to the quick. He turned his head aside, and asked abruptly 
about George’s paper. After this he carefully avoided men- 
tioning Tania’s name again. This doleful look of George was 
gall and wormwood to him. 

Andrey resumed his favourite work of propaganda, seclud- 
ing himself almost entirely in his Wyborg district. He seemed 
to hunger for work, taking upon himself all he could get. 
Even the exacting fault-finding Lena was delighted with him 





are) |: 
? ey 
— 
Ps 


186 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


saying that he seemed in a fair way to making up in no time 
for his short leave of absence. 

At the same time, Andrey’s former unwillingness to appear 
as propagandist among educated people grew into a positive 
aversion. He refused peremptorily to go to any of the students’ 
meetings, or parties outside their business meetings. He seldom 
saw even his friends and fellow-conspirators. What for? It 
would be merely self-indulgence and waste of time. He was 
in the sternest mood, trying to purge his life of all that was not 
strictly duty. 

George was the only person to whom he paid any visits. 
Probably because at present it- was for him rather a penance 
than otherwise ; he was so anxious to prove to himself that his 
fit of vulgar jealousy was well over, and that he felt as friendly 
with George as ever. He would have kept his resolution but 
for that unbearable look of doleful compassion which he noticed 
now and then in George’s expressive eyes. He called twice in 
the first week after his arrival, and then stopped his visits, 
alleging as pretext want of time. 

Tania he would as lief not see at all. He was glad that 
the fulfilment of the mission entrusted to him by Zina did 
not require a personal interview with her. Since the day Tania 
had become a member of their society, all her fortune belonged 
to the cause, and she, as a matter of course, had no more voice 
in disposing of her money than any other member of their 
brotherhood. Andrey easily obtained from the League half of 
the sum needed, which Zina required immediately. The other 
half was promised to him within a month by Repin, whom he 
went to see a few days after his return from Dubravnik. 

He met Tania a fortnight later, at a meeting of the group to 
which they both belonged. It was a small special meeting, 
composed of about a dozen men and women engaged in the 
propaganda among workmen. ‘The famous Taras Kostrov was 
among those present. He was one of the pioneers of this form 
of propaganda. Stress of business had compelled him long 
ago to give up actual work, but he dropped in occasionally 
at these meetings when time permitted. ‘To-day he came for 
a short time to meet a friend, Shepelev, one of the permanent 
members of the group, with whom he had special business to 
talk over. 

Though the room was full of people, it was Taras Kostrov 
alone whom one saw at first, for it was impossible not to be 








ee RE 


hy ey 


iii 


jl outed AL, eS. = - OU Uh! Oo ee eee 
~ 


AN UNEXPECTED COMPLICATION. 187 


attracted by his proud, powerful face, of remarkable manly 
beauty, breathing intelligence, and boundless courage. 

Andrey exchanged a friendly nod with Kostrov, and went to 
shake hands with Tania, whom he saw in the farthest corner 
of the room absorbed in reading a freshly issued popular 
pamphlet. 

It was not without misgivings that Andrey went to this 
meeting, at which he knew he should see Tania. But now 
that they were face to face he felt nothing but a calm pleasure. 
The girl received him in a friendly way, but soon resumed her 
reading, in which she seemed to be greatly interested. Andrey 
did not want to disturb her. He stretched out his hand over 
several heads to Lena, who was not far off, and took a seat. 

The company was not yet complete, though the appointed 
time had already passed. ‘The room was filled with the buzz 
of subdued voices of people talking to beguile the time. Taras 
and Shepelev went on assiduously with their business. Shepelev 
—a pale-faced young man, with long hair and a yellow beard, 
in long boots and a high waistcoat buttoned up to the collar, 
such as the Russian artisans are wont to wear—was explaining 
something to his companion. ‘Taras listened, looking absently 
before him. He could follow a speech very closely, and yet 


_ be thinking about another subject—he understood everything 


so well ata hint. At this moment his restless mind was far 
away: he was thinking of a proposal he meant to make at a 
meeting of a very different nature, to which he had to go in 
half-an-hour. He knew very well that his motion would pro- 
voke a tempest. This made him feel exceedingly soft and 
tender by anticipation. That was why his dark glistening eyes 
were so unusually kind when he turned them upon his inter- 
locutor, and the tone of his occasional remarks was so gentle 
and sweet. 

Taras Kostrov was known as one of the strongest men of 
the party, as he was certainly the most domineering. But he 
wore a velvet glove upon his iron hand. His manners were 
soft and winning, and his speeches, when his passion was at its 
highest, became “sweeter than honey,” as his adversaries used 
to say. 

When all were assembled, the discussion was opened in an 
informal way. Shepelev, who had finished his affair with 
Taras, looked round, and seeing there was nobody wanting, 
plunged into business. He began to say, without any kind of 


oye Alla As 





188 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


exordium, what had been done in his district since the last 
meeting, and what was in preparation. He was freely inter- 
rupted by questions, suggestions, and criticisms from the ~ 
audience. ‘The discussion resembled more a free talk between 
friends than a formal debate. 

Lena had to speak after Shepelev. But she did not want 
to make any report to-day. There was no change worth 
speaking of in her district. 

“ Let us rather hear what Tania has to tell. She has new 
ground to work upon, and fruitful ground, I hope.” 

“Not very, up to the present, I am bound to confess,” 
Tania said. 

The prospect for the future was, however, not so bad, as 
was elicited by the questions of several friends, among whom 
Taras and Andrey were prominent. 

It was evident that the district, if well managed, might 
become in time an important centre. 

“Would it not be well,” suggested Taras, ‘‘ that an experi- 
enced man should be transferred—for a time at least—to the 
Narva district ?” 

He could not wait to hear the result of his proposal. The 
inexorable watch warned him that he must be off. He shook 
hands with Shepelev, and left hurriedly. 

“T am just of Taras’s opinion,” Lena said. ‘‘We have 
nobody free, but some of us can leave an old place where the 
propaganda has struck root well. For starting, a man will be 
better, I think, than a woman.’ 

She looked at Andrey, who felt with trouble and mortifica- 
tion that he was beginning to blush under this significant 
glance. His resolution not to see Tania outside business 
meetings like this, vanished away at Lena’s glance, as if it had 
never been. Now he knew that in reality he had come to this 
very meeting with the hope that something would turn up to 
bring him nearer to the girl. 

“ Shepelev can leave his place,” one voice said. 

Andrey felt very unhappy. It seemed to him that ig 
chance was gone. Shepelev was one of the best and most 
experienced of the propagandists. 

“Yes, let Shepelev go to the Narva district,” several voices 
repeated. 

The question seemed settled, but Lena interposed. “I 
think,” she said, “‘ Andrey will do much better than Shepelev.” 








AN UNEXPECTED COMPLICATION. 189 


She proceeded to give her reasons, reviewing with perfect 
frankness and equanimity the respective qualifications of the 
two men. Shepelev, she admitted, was very good as lecturer 
and debater.. The workmen understood him well, and were 
easily converted by him. But he was not the fittest person to 
work up a new field and pick out new men; he was neither 
active nor enterprising enough for that. Besides, he was slow 
in making acquaintance with the people. Andrey in both 
respects was the better man of the two. 

Lena made her speech in a uniform business-like tone, 
without raising her voice a single note. Her blue eyes, which 
she moved as she spoke from one candidate to the other, rested 
upon them with the same placid calmness when she made a 
compliment as when she put forward a cutting criticism. 

Shepelev listened to the discursive examination of himself 
very attentively, his elbow on the arm of his chair, twisting his 
yellow beard between his fingers. He smiled now and then at 
Lena’s sharpest remarks, enjoying quietly the girl’s straight- 
forwardness. 

“‘ Yes, I think you will do better here than I,” he said to 
Andrey, when Lena had finished. ‘Can you leave your dis- 
trict without inconvenience ?” 

Now that the thing which he so ardently wished a minute 
before depended upon one word of his, he was taken with a 
sudden fear, as if an abyss had opened before his eyes. 

*“‘ Of course he can!” said Lena, who knew Andrey’s district 
as well as he did. 

Andrey looked timidly at Tania, who was next him. 
The girl seemed troubled and perplexed at the unlooked-for 
proposal. This hurt Andrey profoundly. Why should they 
both be so much concerned about him? It was odd enough 
on George’s part; but from her he certainly did not expect 
this. Love or no love, he was not a milksop; and he would 
prove to them that in all matters connected with the cause, he 
would never be influenced by considerations touching his per- 
sonal feelings. 

His mind was made up at once, and ‘he gave his full and 
unreserved consent to the new arrangement. 

When the discussion on current affairs was over, he begged 


Tania, in a rather formal way, to tell him some more parti- 


culars about her work, which was now their common.-concern. 
She explained what she could, adding that her workmen 





1990 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


would meet at her house that evening. ‘lhe best thing would 
be for Andrey to go with her at once, to see them all, and find 
out for himself. | 

Andrey was disengaged for the rest of the day. There was 
no reason why he should not accept a proposal which was so 
agreeable to him. ‘They left at once, Andrey feeling consider- 
ably softened toward the girl. 

On the way he asked her how her father took their separa- 
tion, and whether she saw him often. This topic brought 
them at once to the close terms of their earlier acquaintance. 
Andrey had a sincere regard for the old barrister. Tania 
knew this, and it gave her particular pleasure to remember it 
now. With George she could hardly speak of her family 
drama. All his sensitiveness and delicacy notwithstanding, 
he was dull as wood upon certain points; it exasperated her 
sometimes to feel that this side of her life was almost in- 
comprehensible to him. With Andrey it was different, and it 
did her good to unbosom herself upon a question that pained 
her so much. 

Tania did not live alone. The conspirators had at their 
disposal several elderly women, mostly former servants in the 
families of revolutionists. ‘They were employed as house- 
keepers, when no particular skill was required for the office. 
Few of them understood anything of the revolution, but they 
were all faithful and trustworthy as old family servants. One 
of these women, formerly Zina’s nurse, was lent to Tania, as 
her housekeeper and supposed landlady. 

Tania gaily showed Andrey her new apartment, which was 
not very prepossessing and much unlike her old dwelling-place. 
The lodgings—the best she could find in a convenient street— 
were rather too spacious for her. They consisted of five rooms 
on a flat, of which only three could be filled by Tania’s scanty 
stock of furniture. The two others were quite empty, giving 
to the place an uncomfortable desolate appearance. ‘The girl 
pretended that it made it look like an old castle. 

The largest room, provided with a long deal table and a 
number of rough stools and benches, was the one where the 
meetings were held. 

The workmen soon came in. They were seven in number, 
arriving, for the sake of precaution, in two batches. 

Andrey was introduced by Tania as a friend, intending to 
settle in the neighbourhood and take part in their common 








ee ee ee Oe 





AN UNEXPECTED COMPLICATION. 1g! 


work. All were glad to hear it, and he was at once treated as 
one of the family. He did not want, however, to interfere in 
the work, preferring to see how Tania acquitted herself in her 
new duties. oe 

He prepared himself for a good deal of indulgence. But 
he recognised very soon that condescension would be out of 
place. ‘Tania, this delicate, high bred girl, who had spent 
all her life in drawing-rooms, seemed to be quite at home 
among these children of toil. Without any effort and with no 
other teacher than her ardent desire to be understood, she 
used a language and a style which they had no difficulty in 
grasping. She put so much of her soul in the work that she 
became almost one with her audience. 

All this was very promising, though she was not without 
her shortcomings. She was afraid to give full play to her own 
impulses. Once or twice Andrey caught in the girl’s words 
a warm, contagious thrill of deep feeling. But just when her 
own emotion began to tell upon the audience, she checked 
herself, like a timid rider, who dares not take advantage of 
the generous fire of his steed. 

A little experience and practice would teach her to do 
better. She had very good stuff in her anyhow. If at the 
beginning Andrey tried not to be too exacting, at the end he 
had to be careful not to overlook her deficiencies. 

The reading finished, they began to talk. Andrey joined 
in the conversation, bringing forward topics upon which each 
could say his word. He wanted to get an idea of his new 
companions. 

They parted on the best terms, the workmen having 
obtained from Andrey a promise to come again, as soon as he 
had moved into their district. 

Tania detained Andrey for another hour or so; she was 
so anxious to have a talk with him. 

The girl was in the honeymoon of her revolutionary 
activity. Everything connected with it was fresh and engross- 
ing. Habit had not yet entered as a sedative into her ardour, 
nor had experience taught her to be cautious. She brought 
all the warmth of a woman and of a neophyte into her relations 
with her workmen. 

Her first question to Andrey when they were alone was, 
how he liked her pupils. According to her each of them had 
something promising or sympathetic about him. Andrey did 


192 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


not exactly share her views. But he was in high spirits to-night, 
ready to see the best in everything. 

**T am sure, anyhow,” he said, ‘that in a few months we 
shall have a good organisation in this district.” 

Tania was much elated at such brilliant prospects. 

‘We must divide the work to be more successful,” she 
suggested. “I will take upon myself the teaching and the 
preliminary work. You shall give them the final polish.” 

‘Tf division of labour there must be,” Andrey said, “ I think 
that it will be rather for you to give our men the final polish, 
and for me to pick them up from the crowd. I always held 
the opinion that in awakening souls, we men must give the 
palm to women. I do not think that our case is an exception 
to that general rule.” 

The girl looked at him in surprise. It was difficult for her 
to believe that he meant what he said. 

‘But Iam hardly able to speak to them, and I know so 
little,” she said. 

‘“*Of course you will have to work hard yourself,” Andrey 
said. “But I assure you that erudition is not the chief 
quality in a good propagandist. It is nothing compared 
with . 

“With what ?” the girl said, eagerly. 

“With the power to move hearts and to infuse into them 
your own devotion. Perhaps you wish me to tell you the 
‘secret of doing that ?” 

“By all means!” Tania exclaimed. ‘ You must not 
keep such knowledge for your own benefit.” 

** Tt is to feel all this yourself.” 

Tania burst into laughter. She expected something 
extraordinary and at the same time very practical. And it was 
only that. 

“‘ Why, then, should women have any advantage over men ?” 
she asked. ‘“ Are our men unfeeling or not devoted ?” 

“No. But there are degrees and a world of difference 
between them, you know. I cannot help becoming Pindaric 
‘when I think of our women, and that does not suit a man 
like me. I really think they are too good for our Mother 
Russia—for the time we live in at all events.” 

He stopped, pensively. 

“You will succeed too in the work you have chosen,” 
he added, looking at her earnestly. ‘You have the very 





ad ae 











AN UNEXPECTED COMPLICATION. 193 


precious qualities required to achieve great success in that 
line. ‘Trust to my prophecy, for I know something about it.” 

He spoke soberly, but the eyes that he lifted on the girl 
glowed with admiration. He was so happy to be able to 
sincerely pay her that modest homage. | 

Tania blushed with the intense surprise and pleasure these 
words gave her. 

“*T would give much for your prophecy to prove true,” she 
said, and then-asked, “‘ When shall you be able to move to our 
district ?” 

“In a few days. But I may as well begin my work from 
to-morrow. ‘Two hours’ distance is not much.” 

_ “Very well. I will expect you then to-morrow evening,” 
the girl said, giving to Andrey a strong and warm shake of the 
hand. 

Andrey returned home a happy man. He was feasting 
upon the recollections of the evening, and the certainty of 
seeing the girl again to-morrow. In this new and higher 
phase of her life, Tania appeared to him as if transfigured 
and glorified. Her best qualities which he had formerly only 
anticipated, were now in full bloom. And what a rapidity of 
growth! Such wonders, he thought, happen only with girls. 
He left her a child... Now she was a woman, but as free from 
self-consciousness as a child. He felt that he loved her now 
more deeply than ever, but his apprehensions of the morning 
had entirely vanished. His former resolution to avoid the girl 
seemed to him now utterly absurd. He did not expect, and 
did not seek, any return for his love. Why, then, should he 
avoid the girl, with whom he had so much in common? They 
had worked very well that night together, and they would work 
in the same way in the future, no matter whether he loved 
her much or little or not at all. The old romancers might 
well consider love-making the chief interest in life. He knew 
better than that. 


CHAPTER IX. 


AT THE SAME WORK. 


himself upon his courageous resolution to take the 

bull by the horns. During the month which followed 
his removal to the Narva district he knew that happiness which 
is second only to the raptures of a returned love: the com- 
panionship of the woman one loves in a work into which both 
of them put the best of their souls. 

The trifling, dull, everyday details had for him a new 
significance and charm. The little successes he achieved in 
his work, were now actual triumphs, that filled him with keen 
joy. He was exceptionally successful in his propaganda all 
this time. He became more perceptive and eloquent, the 
warmth of his own affection making him feel kindlier to 
other men. 

Most of his time he spent out of doors. ‘The twenty-four 
hours hardly sufficed for him to do all the work he had on 
hand. ‘Thanks to the introductions he received from Tania’s 
workmen, the circle of his connections extended rapidly. Out 
of his many new friends and sympathisers he had to choose 
men whom it was safe to invite to. Tania’s evenings. As the 
workmen who were present at those meetings ran as much 
risk as if they were parties to a wilful murder or arson, it was 
the custom that no candidate for one of their small clubs 
should be invited without the consent and approbation of all 
the members. Andrey and Tania adhered to this wise rule; 
but Andrey soon acquired such popularity, that practically 
all abided by his. advice. A clever educated man is a giant 
intellectually in a crowd of illiterate peasants and mechanics 
—provided that he knows how to win their confidence. 

The number of their adherents grew rapidly. Another 
centre, in which two young men lived, was founded in the 
district. It was risky to receive too many people at the same 


\ NDREY had many opportunities for congratulating 








,_ ee 








AT THE SAME WORK. 195 


house. ‘The original stock began to give forth shoots. Still, 
numerically, it was a very small affair. The propagandists 
assembled around them only the picked men, and addressed 
small gatherings, such as can meet safely in private lodgings. . 

But it is in small gatherings that true zealots can be best 
educated. It is when spoken from man to man, face to face, 
that the human word produces its greatest effect. Their 
propaganda, its small extent notwithstanding, was very fruitful. 
‘They not merely imparted to their men certain doctrines, 
they educated them in the same high feelings that animated 
themselves. 

In this common work, Tania’s part was certainly not — 
smaller than that of her elder companion and guide. In 
his ardour to push forward the girl, Andrey kept to his idea of 
division of labour between them—perhaps too closely. He 
took upon himself the task of establishing new connections, 
opening new fields, and getting hold of new men. But when 
they met in the evenings in Tania’s room, he was wont to 
leave the best part of the work to her. 

Thanks to his constant encouragement, Tania got rid of 
what makes women so weak when they have to do intellectual 
work in company with men—the consciousness of inferiority. 
Her mind and speech, once freed from the trammels of a 
depressing apprehension, grew and strengthened visibly. Her 
mornings she spent mostly at home, reading and studying dili- 
gently to fit herself better for her favourite work. In the even- 
ings, if they had no meeting of their own, she was often invited 
to attend a meeting of some of their companions, amongst whom 
she began to acquire a reputation. 

Andrey was delighted with the girl’s success, more than 
he ever had been with his own. He did not notice how his 
feeling towards the girl, which was never merely a fancy, 
acquired an ever-increasing depth. Every day he discovered 
new attractions in her. It seemed to him that into all that 
Tania did she threw something of her own, which made it 
fresh and exquisitely fine. Her love to the people seemed 
to him so warm and sincere; her calmness and simplicity in 
accepting the dangers which surrounded her, and her in- 
difference to the fate which was in store for her, seemed to 
him so touching and beautiful. All that he had known and 
seen so many times done by other girls, now acquired for him 
a new meaning and a new charm. It is thus that a picture by 


196 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


a great master, when we stand before it in rapt contemplation, 
reveals to us endless beauties unsuspected at a cursory glance. 

At some moments a secret dread crept over Andrey’s 
heart; he felt that he was beginning to love terribly in 
earnest. But such moments were few and brief. Usually 
he was possessed by a delightful inward calm, in which even 
his jealousy was lulled to sleep. 

He saw George occasionally, though not very often. The 
young poet was again very busy, and Andrey went rarely to 
town. George had ceased for some time to persecute Andrey 
with that exasperating doleful look of his. Their relations 
were improved by this, but they were not the same as before. 
A certain constraint remained between them, Andrey laid 
the fault of it entirely upon his friend. If George cared 
for their friendship, he ought to be the first to speak frankly. 
Andrey felt quite ready on his part not to grudge him the 
girl’s love. ‘Their common work had established between 
himself and Tania a strong link, which, as he thought, nothing 
_could break. ‘Tania’s tastes were modest and homely like his 
own. He doubted whether she would feel any particular 
attraction for the domain of high politics in which George 
moved, whilst he was sure that, marriage or no marriage, 
she would never give up her present kind of work. Whatever 
happened, he was certain that his own share in Tania’s spiritual 
life would always be the greater. This made him inclined to 
be generous. 

Every time he happened to be alone with George he 
expected an explanation. But George evidently avoided 
approaching the burning subject, and kept his friend in a 
painful suspense. 

Andrey knew that he could easily clear up everything by 
speaking to Tania directly; they were friends enough for 
that. But every time he was on the point of putting his 
question, an insuperable dread detained him,—the dread, as 
he thought, of offending her by an indiscretion. He preferred 
not to think about her love to George. The present was so 
delightful, that there was no need to spoil it by anticipating 
the unpleasant eventualities of the future. When thoughts of 
this kind crossed his mind, he simply drove them away as one 
drives obnoxious birds from a cornfield. 

The only thing which caused him real pain for the present, 
was the impossibility of spending as much time with the 








ee 





~ oe el 





AT THE SAME WORK. 197 


girl as he wished. It pained him to leave her even for an 
hour. But this privation was imposed on both of them by the 
exigencies of their work, and he bore it with resignation, 
requiting himself by taking good care not to waste any of 
his opportunities of seeing her. He certainly could not be 
jealous of their common cause. 

He was satisfied, and happy on the whole. It was a calm 
and refined sort of happiness, which did not turn his head ; 
but Andrey consoled himself with the idea, that what had to 
last long must naturally be calm. He firmly believed that 
their present relations would be prolonged indefinitely, until a 
little circumstance showed him that the edifice he supposed 
to be built of stone, was rather a house of cards that a touch 
of the finger would overturn. : 


CHAPTER X. 


THE CRISIS. 


NE evening: Tania and Andrey were sitting alone in 
() their workroom. It was very late, and the whole 
house was plunged in the first deep sleep. The 
young people had returned half an hour before from a meeting 
at the house of one of their companions. The evening had 
been an exceptionally successful and agreeable one. ‘Tania 
had chosen for to-night’s reading a very touching story of 
popular life and suffering. She was excited by it herself, and 
spoke unusually well. She went home in her happiest mood. 
Andrey accompanied her, as usual, to her house. He was in 
good spirits also, and could not withstand the desire to step 
up to her room for another half-hour, under the pretext that 
after so much talking it was right to have a cup of tea. 

Tania brought him in, opening the door with her latch- 
key. The housekeeper had already gone to bed. ‘They did 
not want to disturb her, preferring to provide for their needs 
themselves. With much bustling and laughing they lighted 
their samovar, and ransacked the cupboards, Tania having 
cautiously stolen the keys from under the housekeeper’s pillow, 
where the good woman was wont to put them for the night. 

When the things were upon the table, both discovered 
that they were quite hungry. They had the pleasantest supper, 
and talked gaily. 

Andrey mentioned the story which had been read. 

“We must recommend it to our friends,” he said. “I 
don’t remember any other story so stirring to our workmen 
as this one. It must be made, I think, a permanent addition 
to our stock.” 

Tania agreed, and promised that she would take it to Lena 
at her first visit. 

“But perhaps it is not the horse, but the rider, who won 
the prize,” Andrey said, smiling. ‘I hope that after to-night’s 











—_ a —— E = 


THE CRISIS. 199 


experience you have no longer any doubt as to your capacities 
and brilliant future as propagandist among workmen.” 

“Yes, I hope I shall do something in that way,” Tania 
said, happy as a skylark trying its young wings and taking its 
first flight. ‘* Now I am beginning to be afraid that I have got 
so used to speaking to workmen, that I shall lose altogether the 


_ capacity for addressing people of our own set.” 


“Would it be such a great loss to you?” Andrey asked, 
good-humouredly. 

“Of course it would, especially now!” Tania exclaimed, 
with youthful warmth. 

“Why?” Andrey inquired. 

The girl’s words jarred somewhat unpleasantly upon his ear. 

** Because I am about to try my strength on that field,” she 
said, “‘and I am so anxious to carry havoc amidst my old 
friends there. You know, George said to me yesterday we are 
to start for our Moscow trip in a week or so.” 

A chill came over Andrey’s heart. The girl had said 
nothing newto him. He had never forgotten Tania’s projected 
trip with George. He could not forget it, if he would. This 
was one of the most obnoxious birds that visited his cornfield, 
which he had the greatest difficulty in scaring away. He was 
prepared for the fact, but he never thought that she would be 
so exultant at the prospect of leaving him and the work to 
which he had believed her to be so strongly attached. It was 
the girl’s way of speaking of it which mece his heart ache so 
painfully. 

He fixed a dismal look upon the beautiful happy face, 
trying in vain to discover upon it something more in harmony 
with his own feelings. 

“Are you so impatient to go to Moscow?” he asked, 
dejectedly. 

Tania gave no answer to Andrey’s question. Her eyes 
closed, a bright smile on her lips, she only made a number of 
small affirmative nods. 

Her flushed face said the rest. She left him without a 
regret, without a thought. He was nothing to her, whilst she 
was everything to him. She was satisfied with his company, 
only for want of something better. As soon as he was out of 
her sight, she would forget his very existence. 

Andrey’s lips turned pale. 

‘IT quite realise that you should be delighted at going to 


re 





200 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


Moscow,” he said, in a calm slow voice, whilst inwardly he 
was boiling with rage. ‘It’s such dull drudgery to repeat 
always the same thing to a handful of common workmen. 
It’s much more exciting to score a success among an educated 
set, who will sing your praises and will publish your achieve- 
ments far and wide.” 

The girl started at this outrageous accusation. She could 
hardly believe her ears. She lifted upon him her wide open 
bewildered eyes, but she could not recognise that cold stern 
face, which she was accustomed to see so kind and so friendly. 

‘‘ Do you consider me so frivolous?” she stammered. 

Her voice trembled: ‘Tears shone in her eyes. 

The sight filled him with burning remorse. He was rst 
to throw himself at her feet, and implore forgiveness for the 
first pain he had caused her. But some evil spirit, stronger 
than, himself, took possession’ of him, filling his words with 
gall and poison. 

‘How can I help being disappointed in you,” he burst forth 
vehemently, “if you tell me yourself that you burn with im- 
patience to give up a work which you said you liked ; when 
the hope of shining among philistines and high-class puppets 
turns your head ; when a 

He was unable to proceed. He seized his hat and ran out 
of the house, without taking leave of the girl. 

Everything grew gloomy from that evening. They patched 
up their first quarrel on the morrow, but that did not improve 
the matter. The base of their friendship was shaken. Andrey 
believed no longer in the existence of those solid moral ties 
between them, in which hitherto he had had such a trust. 

He recognised, of course, when the heat of passion was 
over, that he had exaggerated when he supposed the girl 
utterly indifferent to his very existence. She might no doubt 
retain a bit of lukewarm friendship for him. But this was 
worse than nothing. He thirsted for all; and the little he had 
served only to show how much was kept back. Of jealousy 
of George he did not think any longer. George or another, or 
nobody at all, what did it matter to him? He was jealous of 
every moment, every thought, she did not share with him. 
His new jealousy destroyed the old one, as a strong pain makes 
us forget a lesser ache. In the charming and dangerous 
intimacy in which they had lived, Andrey’s feelings had 
grown upon him imperceptibly. Now they burst forth fiercely, 








fe ee 








THE CRISIS. 201 


filling his heart, kindling his blood. He could not exist 
without her, for in her absence he did nothing but torment 
himself about her. ‘To run away was now out of the question. 
He calculated the hours and the minutes he had to wait before 
he could decently see her again. But as soon as he had 
secured for himself this happiness, the remembrance of his 
wrongs surged out of the depths of his heart, overwhelming 
all that was good and benevolent in his feelings toward the 
girl. The very enjoyment of her presence turned to poison 
for him. ‘The deep, the penetrating pleasure of yielding and 
submitting to the beautiful child was gone. He felt humiliated 
at being so much at her mercy, revolting against her power of 
making him happy or wretched at pleasure. This inward 
struggle kept him in constant irritation. He became peevish 
and captious, trying to find fault with her, wrangling about 
everything; and he was not ashamed’to use the advantages of 
his superior dialectical skill and experience to torment her the 
more effectively. 

Tania received his first rebukes without defending herself ; 
they hurt her too much for that. But soon she lost confidence 
in his fairness, and began to resent his unjustifiable ill-temper. 
The mutual understanding established by many months of 
friendly intercourse was destroyed in a few days. When alone, 
free from these galling influences, Andrey saw with horror 
how rapidly their estrangement was growing. He tried to 
regain the lost ground by offering her apologies. And the 
next moment he began all over again. 

Tania was no less miserable than Andrey. One morning, 
coming unexpectedly, he saw by her eyes that she had been 
crying. He accused himself of being the greatest of villains, 
and was about to confess everything. But the girl received - 
his first words so badly, that they fell out worse than ever. 

They were rolling down a steep declivity, and had to hurl 
themselves to the bottom without any possibility of stopping. 
A complete and irrevocable rupture was certain to occur before 
long. Andrey wished that it would come soon; this would 
put an end to an intolerable position. He would be compelled 
by force of circumstances to leave her, a thing which he had 
not strength to do on his own initiative. Yet he dreaded the 
blow, and made awkward efforts to put the fatal moment off. 

He took the extreme resolution of not seeing her outside 
the hours of their work. On Friday he kept to his room 





202 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


stoically. Friday was Andrey’s best day; they had no meeting 
_ to attend, and were wont either to go on some visit to town, or 
to spend it in Tania’s rooms reading something together or 
talking. Now he resolved not to call on her at all. But it 
cost him so much to keep to his resolution, that the next day 
he came much before the usual time, under the pretext that 
he wanted to speak with her upon the choice of the subject to 
discuss at the coming meeting. 

This they settled in a few minutes, and he had nothing 
more to say. For the first time he could not find a subject 
for conversation with Tania. He repented that he had broken 
his resolution, and had come so early to make a fool of himself. 
This put him at once in a bad humour. 

“‘ How long is it since you have seen Lisa?” he asked, to 
fill up the disagreeable gap. 

He had not done it on purpose, but he certainly could not 
have chosen a subject more unpleasant for himself. 

Lisa was a very fashionable cousin of Tania’s. Andrey 
knew her a little, and there was no love lost between them. 
Besides, her name reminded him of the unfortunate Moscow 
trip. It was at Lisa’s house that Tania intended to stop on 
her arrival in the town. 

“Not since last winter, when she paid a visit to St Peters- 
burg,” she answered, curtly and seriously. 

Tania had some needlework in her hand, and was sewing 
assiduously, her head turned in profile to Andrey. 

The silence returned,—a strained, painful silence, filling 
the nerves with uneasiness, like the stifling calm before the 
outburst of a tempest. 

To break the insufferable tension, Tania tried to bring 
forward something connected with their common work, which 
formerly afforded them such an inexhaustible source for 
exchange of thoughts and feelings. 

But Andrey did not take the bait ; it was not for this that 
he had come. Then, as the girl renewed nervously her efforts, 
he grew vexed that she should try to bring the conversation to 
matters which after all were of such small interest to her. 

He abruptly changed the subject, turning to topics which 
would be much more appropriate to the occasion,—her Moscow 
plans and acquaintances, in whom he exhibited now a keen, 
though not benevolent interest. 

Tania answered without lifting her eyes from the needle- 








ae 





— pa 





| Pm ae 


THE CRISIS. 203 


work. But her fingers trembled, and her stitches often went 
wrong. She knew well that this time Andrey had broached 
the subject on purpose to hurt her. But she had made her 
resolution not to be provoked, and not to quarrel with Andrey, 
as long as she could help it. In three days she would start with 
George for Moscow, and on returning she would settle in some 
other district. She did not want to part with Andrey in enmity. 

But, instead of soothing, her calmness drove Andrey to the 
extreme verge of irritation and despair. It proved to him 
that he had become so utterly indifferent to her, that no opinion 
of his would in the least affect her. He had nothing left 
but the cruel pleasure of ascertaining whether that indifference 
had any limits. He scoffed at her most cherished plans, ran 
down her Moscow friends, and finished by saying that, accord- 
ing to his experience, people who came over into their ranks 
from the midst of the fashionable world, were able only for a 
time to don the garb of democrats; in one way or in another 
the old Adam will reappear in them, and the sooner the better. 

This was too much for Tania to bear. She rose from her 
seat, exasperated, indignant. 

“Listen, Andrey! .. .” she began, in a voice quivering 
with anger. ; 

Andrey rose also, his face pale, his right hand resting upon 
the table. The spirit of mischief which hitherto had possessed 
him vanished at once. The moment he had expected, had 
provoked, and yet dreaded, had come, and he was ready to 
receive the blow. The small oil reflector fixed to the wall lit 
up his bowed forehead and knitted brows. He looked gloomy 
and suffering. 

“Andrey,” the girl exclaimed, softening suddenly, “tell 
me why you have so changed towards me for some days past? 
If you find something bad in me, why do you not tell me 
frankly and in a brotherly fashion as you used to? And if 


_ you can’t, why should we harass each other as we do? Is it 


not better we should separate, and go each our own way ?” 

She was no longer angry, but sad. Her voice was soft and 
kind. But Andrey became a shade paler still. 

“‘T wish I could leave you, Tania. I wish I had never met 
you at all,” he said, in a hardly audible voice. 

“Why? Have I caused you Aid 

She was checked by a sudden foreboding of something 
immense which flashed across her mind. 





204 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“Are you blind, then?” Andrey said, almost rudely. 
“‘ Do you not see that I love you to madness!” 

He lifted his eyes upon her, and his whole frame was 
shaken with a momentary wonder, which passed into a rapturous 
breath-suspending joy. Had he seen aright? Her face 
brightened. She had stretched both her hands toward him, 
she made a step forward, and all was done. She threw herself 
upon his neck, bursting into happy tears. 

“Tania, dear, my own! Is it possible? You love me?” 
he asked, in a tremulous voice. 

She only pressed closer to him. 

“You made me suffer so much,” she whispered. 

“Forgive me. I have suffered horribly myself; but it is 
all over now. We shall be happy!” he exclaimed triumphantly. 
“The gods themselves will envy our happiness ! ” 

_He led her to a chair, and knelt down at her side. He 
covered with kisses her cold hands, and her flushed, bashful 
face. He made her the avowal of his absorbing passion, and 
asked how she came to love him. He wanted facts, confir- 
mations, to be quite sure of that happiness which had fallen 
upon him as from the skies. 

“T thought you loved George,” he said, with a smile of 
mixed confusion and pride. 

“George is the best of men—much better than you are,” 
she said, pressing her finger strongly against his forehead. “But 
since the night you spoke to me at our house—do you remember? 
—you have possessed my heart. Itall grew upon me stronger 
and stronger... . I don’t know why. I suppose for some 
sin of my ancestors,” she said, with a smile, bestowing upon the 
young man a long look of love. 

The sound of the bell at the entrance door recalled them to 
reality. It was the first batch of workmen arriving. 

Andrey went to let them in. The girl received them, and 
betook herself to her work as usual. She looked only un- 
commonly beautiful, as if glorified with the calm solemnity of a 
great happiness. But Andrey could not curb the tempestuous 
exultation of his heart. Even Tania’s presence was not sufficient 
to enable him to attend to anything except his own feelings. 
He took leave of them, and left hurriedly. 

Outside it was a bitter frost ; the winter, at its onset, covering 
with the shroud of death, earth, trees, and houses. But Andrey 
was unconscious of the cold, as of all his surroundings. There 





- w $5 Saat 
_" 
ao 














THE CRISIS. 205 


was in his heart a boiling spring of life, which made his cheeks 
glow and sent the blood coursing rapidly through his veins, as 
he walked through the darkness of the early northern night. 

He was not dreaming; it was true, she loved him! Her 
hands had rested there, around his neck; he felt their touch 
still. Her first shy kiss burned upon his lips. That dazzling 
beauty, that harmonious spirit, the treasures of which he alone 
knew—were his, all his, solely and for ever! The world 
around him, other men and himself—all seemed changed and 
renewed, and in the depth of his soul, stirred as it had never 
_ been before, an exultant voice was singing a hymn of praise to 
the abstract impersonal thing above, the object of their common 
devotion, which now appeared to him as a living being, one that 
could be spoken to and hear his ardent vows. He knew that 
the girl he loved would never have cast a glance upon him, but 
for his faithfulness to the great cause in which they were both 
engaged. 

His thoughts reverted to George, and a repentant tenderness 
filled his heart. How rudely he had behaved towards him ; how 
churlishly he had received his unwavering kindness. Yes, he 
must go straight to him, he must make a clean breast of it, and 
tell him, Brother, I have sinned before heaven and against you. 

George was at home, buried amidst his books and manu- 
scripts. The moment he saw Andrey’s face, he understood on 
what errand he had come. It seemed that he was prepared 
long ago for what Andrey wanted to tell him. 

He stopped Andrey’s clumsy and confused confessions at 
the first words, and shook his hand, wishing him happiness. 
Not a shadow of jealousy could be detected in his large blue 
eyes, as he looked upon his happy rival. This did not sur- 
prise Andrey at all, for he knew that it would be thus. But it 
seemed very strange to him that George should accept it all as 
a matter of course. _ 

“T knew months ago that she loved you,” Géorge said, 
calmly. | 

“Did you? But how could you?” Andrey asked. 

‘In the simplest way possible; she told me herself on one 
occasion. .. .” 

He paused for a moment, as if drifting off into some 
recollections. 

“That’s why,” he proceeded, ‘‘I was compelled to keep 
dumb as a fish. Otherwise I should have spoken.” 


206 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“Spoken? To whom?” 

“To you, of course. ‘To whom else ?” 

“‘ George, pray don’t tell me all that at once, if you don’t 
want to crush me altogether with your surpassing virtues,” 
Andrey said, trying to conceal his confusion under a playful 
tone. 

George shrugged his shoulders. 

“What are you saying of virtues. It would be only 
consistent with my love to both of you. Would you not have 
done it yourself if you had been in my position?” he said, 
fixing on his friend a sly look of assumed simplicity. 

-Andrey blushed crimson with the painful blush of shame. 
He knew that he would have been unable to act in that way. 
It pained him to confess his coarser nature. 

Seeing how well he had hit the mark, George burst into a 
hearty laugh, so completely devoid of malice that Andrey felt 
relieved, and finished by laughing too. 

Then George stopped, and said seriously— 

“T hope you will not be jealous of me because I shall 
accompany Tania to Moscow ?” 

“* No, I have not fallen as low as that kind of jealousy, and 
I hope I never shall,” Andrey exclaimed, smiling. ‘ You need 
not think me worse than I am.” 





a 








CHAPTER XI. 
PENDING THE RESPITE. 


r “ANIA promised to return soon, and she kept her word. 
In a fortnight Andrey was at the railway station again 
to take his bride in his arms. They were married 

soon after. No priest or policeman was requested to interfere 

in the matter. ‘The union was completed by giving publicity 
to their intentions, as is the rule in the world in which they 
lived. 

The marriage changed in no way the external part of their 
life. ‘They resumed the same work as before, though they had 
to settle at the opposite end of the capital, as the old district 
became too hot for them. In one of the bye-streets near the 
Cronversky they found small lodgings, consisting of two rooms, 
with a kitchen in which Tania cooked their meals. 

The rooms were small, and shabbily furnished. The floor 
was bare, the ceiling not very lofty. ‘The windows were small, 
and for the most part covered with an opaque deposit of hoar 
frost, as hard winter was outside, though spring was already 
drawing near. Ona sunny day they could enjoy the view of a 
block of ugly monotonous houses on the opposite side of the 
street. There was nothing picturesque or poetical in the 
dwelling, which was almost dreary in its bareness. Yet this 
was their paradise,—if this expression can be allowed in the 
sober language of modern humanity. 

The first, all-absorbing, rapturous happiness soon passed ; 
it was too incompatible with the life they lived and saw around 
them. But it gave place to a calmer and higher happiness, of 
community of thoughts and feelings, of the never-ending charm 
of mutual knowledge, which for lovers begins only after 
marriage. 

They were as fully and completely happy as they ever 
dreamed of being. 





208 . THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


True, an important element of complete happiness did not 
exist for them. They had not even any illusion as to its 
longevity. Theirs was only a short respite, and they knew it. 
The sword of Damocles hung constantly over their heads. 
Any day and hour might be their last. Some of the many 
dangers besetting the everyday life of conspirators approached 
them closely, as if to whisper a memento mort, now to Andrey, 
now to Tania, now to both of them together. 

But they did not complain of this. The dangers which 
surrounded their path were the torch-bearers of their love. 
What they valued and loved in each other most, was precisely 
this unlimited devotion to their country, this readiness to give up 
for its sake everything and at any moment. If they were able 
to love each other without doubt, division, or restraint, with all 
the powers of their young enthusiasm, this was because they 
each found in the other the embodiment of that lofty ideal of 
heroism after which each of them aspired. Since faithfulness 
to themselves, to their ideas, to their love, imposed upon 
them this life of constant danger, they did not shrink. Let 
the unavoidable come; they would not cast down their eyes 
before it. 

They did not court the ghastly goddess of self-immolation ; 
they were both too full of vigorous physical health for that, and 
life had too many charms for them now. But they did not 
fear. The gloom of the future did not mar the beauty of their 
present. It only gave a value to every hour, every moment, 
’ they had to spend together. 

One morning, it was at the beginning of spring, Andrey 
asked Tania to read him aloud from a new magazine they had 
brought yesterday from her father, with whom they had spent 
the evening. 

They both enjoyed immensely reading together, and talking 
on what they had read. But to-day Tania replied that she was 
in no mood to read anything. A cloud hung over her brow ; 
the first, perhaps, in the four months of their marriage. 

-“What’s the matter with you, dear?” Andrey asked, 
anxiously. ‘* You look so appallingly serious and solemn.” 

Tania could not tell exactly what was the matter. Nothing 
particular ; only a strange depression of spirit. 

She was sitting in the chair near her desk. Andrey sat 
upon the floor at her feet, which was his favourite pose when 
they could enjoy a free talk, 














PENDING THE RESPITE. 209 


** Come, tell me what you are thinking about, and I’ll try to 
find out for myself what ails you.” 

“You needn’t mind about. it,” she said; “a mere de- 
pression of mind, which will pass of its own accord.” 

‘But I want to know what you are depressed about. Is it 
about me, perhaps? If so, you are quite wrong, for you 
couldn’t find with a lantern a better husband than I am.’ 

** Don’t joke, Andrey,” Tania said, letting her vague melan- 
choly run that way. ‘We are happy now, but who. can tell 
whether it is for good or for evil that we married.” 

“ Every priest, if we had asked any to meddle in our affairs, 
would have told you that it is for good and for evil,” Andrey 
said. ‘‘ But whence these strange doubts? I never heard you 
speak in that way before? Do you regret that you married me?” 

“No, I don’t regret, on my own account,” she said, putting 
her hand upon Andrey’s thick hair, and looking him in the 
face. ‘‘ But perhaps you would regret it some day. I have 
been often told how revolutionists grow worse when they get 
married.” ; 

“Then it is the fear of spoiling my spotless self that 
troubles your peace of mind ?” 

He could not proceed in the same strain, her deep dark 
eyes were so earnestly, pathetically sad. 

A warm wave of thankfulness and love surged up in his 
breast as he looked from below into those dear eyes, drinking 
in their caressing light. 

** My darling, you have made another and better man of 
me! You have opened in my heart such springs of enthusiasm, 
devotion, and faith in men, as I never thought to possess. Is 
it for you to speak thus?” 

‘“‘ Have I?” she said, incredulously, caressing his hair. 

“Oh, I wish I could tell you all! Do you know I was 
very religious when a boy, and afterwards I was told that it is 
in religion that man’s spirit soars- highest. But when I am 
with you, and your hand resting upon my head ; or when in 
solitude I begin to think of you and of myself,—I feel the 
same sweetness of humility, the same thrill of adoration, the 
same ardent yearning after moral purity and sacrifice, which 
overwhelmed my heart in the days of my childhood. I’m glad 
to own my defects and weaknesses, because it is before you 
that I have to bow my head, and I long to be cleansed of them 
that I may come without fear into your presence. . . .” 

O 


210 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


Transfigured with the glow of enthusiasm he was beautiful, 
he was eloquent. ‘Tania listened, serious, wondering, almost 
carried away by his passionate outburst. But at his last words 
she stretched her hands forwards, as if his utterances were 
actual incense that she wanted to keep off. 

** Andrey, I pray you, don’t speak to me in that way if you 
love me. [I'll disbelieve in your love if you try to exalt me so 
out of all proportion. I know that I have nothing extraordinary 
about me, and I wish that you would take me for what I am.” 

Andrey listened to this little sermon with a calm smile. 
He took her hand deliberately, and kissed one by one each of 
her fingers in turn. 

“Child,” he said at last, ‘who told you that I consider 
you to be so much of an exception to our common nature? 
No, dear, I’m not a boy any longer. I know that we are both 
of us ordinary people. I weave no day-dreams about you ; 
I love you. But do you think that only the rare and the 
extraordinary can be loved? How miserable our world would 
be if that were so! I know that among our fellow-conspirators 
there are women as good and pure-minded and devoted .as you. 
But what does it matter to me? I see the sun, and I feel its 
warmth basking in its rays, and I proceed calmly to my day’s 
work or to my rest. But to-morrow I see the. same sun, 
perhaps even less brilliant and beautiful than yesterday, only 
the clouds gathered round him in a somewhat different way, 
the colours grouped in another manner, which so affects 
my eyes that I stop rapturous and ecstatic before him. I don’t 
know, and I don’t care to know, why I love you. . . .” 

“Oh, I know now,” Tania interposed, laughing, “and T’ll 
tell you at once. Your tastes are exceedingly modest. I 
am sure you become ecstatic before the sun when it is so 
thoroughly clouded as to resemble a big round oil-spot upon a 
paper lantern. There’s no wrangling about tastes, and I 
consent to be your sun on such condition.” 

She was merry; she smiled gaily. But her eyes were 
serious, answering to a deeper feeling, which gradually absorbed 
everything else, streaming forth unchecked in one long, long 
look. How he loved those dark changeful eyes, of a brown 
topaz with their deep and transparent purity! How he loved 
that look of hers, which always made his heart throb and sink 
in happiness as on the first day when she bestowed it upon 
him ! 














PENDING THE RESPITE. 211 


** My joy !” he exclaimed, in a quivering voice, drawing his 
face near to hers, “‘ tell me why should I be so happy? What 
right have I to be so overwhelmingly happy, when such gloom 
and sorrow is around us? I feel crushed down when I ask 
myself, What have I done to merit all you have given me, and | 
how shall I ever repay it ?” 

She closed his mouth with her hand. Her wondrous eyes 
changed; their mysterious depths closed as with a veil, and 
the tremulous fires which glared somewhere at their bottom 
were sent. They looked grave and serious. 

“You mustn’t rave in this way,” she said, earnestly. “A 
woman’s love is not a prize; it’s a free gift on both sides.” 

The rebuke cooled Andrey, but only for a moment, as fresh 
fuel thrown into an oven cools the fire. 

“You are right; you are always right, dear. But I 
must only be the more grateful to you on that account. I 
should have sung hymns in praise of you, like the old 
troubadour, if I only knew how to make them.” 

** My troubadour,” she said, with a relenting smile, “ what 
would our fellow-conspirators say, I wonder, if they knew that 
Andrey Kojukhoy, the stern, the unflinching, sings rhapsodies 
like this?” 

“They would only put greater confidence in me, if they are 
wise,” Andrey retorted promptly. ‘For there is nothing I 
would not do or endure to be worthy of your love. Believe 
me, only a born coward fears that in the moment of his 
supreme danger love to a woman will check his devotion to 
his country. They will find me ready when my hour comes. 
And you, my beautiful sun, you will say to me, like the Cir- 
cassian maid arming her lover to the battle, 

‘* «My dearest, be bold in facing your fate.’” 


** T’ll try,” she said, with a faint smile, casting her admiring 
eyes upon the bold smiling face uplifted towards her. 

Never had she loved him so dearly, never was she so proud 
and happy to be so beloved by such a man. But at the same 
moment, the possibility of losing him, which she had admitted 
hitherto without believing it, dawned upon her mind with the 
keen anguish of reality. 

With a nervous impulsiveness, in strong contrast with her 
words, she threw her hands round his neck, and pressed 
vehemently to her breast that head, so fearless, so careless of 
danger, which at this moment was dearer to her than all the world. 


212 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


A loud ring of the bell, followed by two feebler ones, filled 
with its discordant din the whole of their small lodgings. 

This was a friend’s ring. Yet both started, and looked into 
each other’s face. 

Andrey rose hastily and went to open the door. 

Tania, who remained at her place, heard first Andrey’s 
joyful exclamation upon the recognition of an unexpected 
friend. But the welcome fell deadened as a stone falls when 
thrown into a quagmire. She heard the stifled rapid whisper 
of several voices, and then an ominous silence. 

Andrey returned to the room, followed by George, and a 
young man whom she did not know. Andrey was pale. The 
two others looked sad and very serious. 

““What has happened?” she exclaimed, with anxiety, rising 
to meet them all. 

“A terrible disaster,” Andrey said. ‘Zina and Vasily 
have been arrested after a hot fight. Both will be sentenced 
to death in a few weeks, for certain. Vulitch has been shot in 
the affray.” 

He threw himself upon a chair, and passed his hand over 
his forehead. ‘The two guests sat down also. ‘The stranger 
happened to be opposite Tania, and their eyes met. 

‘“‘ Vatajko,” he said, introducing himself, as the others did 
not do it. ‘‘I have just come from Dubravnik with the news, 
and with a special message to your husband.” 

‘When did it all happen ?” she asked. 

“Three days ago,” Vatajko answered. ‘The police tried to 
keep it secret, but they cannot. ‘To-morrow it will appear in 
all the newspapers. ‘The whole town is full of it.” 

He began to relate in a slow suppressed voice the details 
of the disaster. But as he went on he gradually warmed to 
his subject. When he came to the story of the fight, he was 
quite ecstatic. It was indeed a good feat. In the dead of the 
night the. police had tried to penetrate into the lodgings 
which Zina and Vasily occupied. They unscrewed the hinges 
of the outer door, so as to enter unheard and surprise every 
one in bed. They would certainly have succeeded in their 
object, but it chanced that Vulitch was reading late in her 
room. She heard the suspicious noise, and as she saw the 
gendarmes unfastening the doors, she fired at them when they 


least expected it. She drove them back upon the stairs by 


repeated shots, and alone kept them at bay for a few minutes, 








i 
Se — ~~ 


ee ee Ne ee 








PENDING THE RESPITE. 213 


until she was struck by a bullet in the head. She died as 
Vasily rushed to her assistance. 

“‘ What a lioness she was, that little girl! And what a good 
death!” Andrey could not help exclaiming. 

“ The other two,” Vatajko proceeded, ‘‘madean attempt to 
force a passage with their revolvers, but it was impossible. 
Then they retreated to the inner rooms, and barricaded the 
entrance. They burned all the compromising documents, and 
they kept the police at bay for half-an-hour, until, having spent 
all their cartridges, they gave themselves up as prisoners.” 
Vatajko added, that according to their information they 

would be tried in a few weeks together with Boris. Zina had 
been implicated in the same affairs as Boris, and the police 
were very glad to have laid hands on her at last. Vasily would 
be tried for armed resistance. There could be no doubt that 
all three would be condemned to death. 

* But this must not be!” Vatajko exclaimed passionately. 
“We'll deliver them by main force !” 

He rose from his seat in the heat of his excitement. Now 
moving, now stopping before one or the other, and gesticulating 
vehemently, he told them that the Dubravnik section had 
decided to attempt a rescue with all their force. The whole 
body of revolutionists is in warm sympathy with the affair. 
Volunteers could be enrolled to any number among the young 
people of the educated classes and the artisans of the town. 
If the secret of the enterprise is rigorously kept, they might 
succeed. At all events they were resolved to try it. 

“We have decided,” he concluded, addressing Andrey, 
“that for an affair of such importance an afaman must be 
nominated, and we have unanimously elected you. I have 
been sent to explain to you everything, and to ask whether 
you will join with us in the affair.” 

Ataman means head man, or leader. As a rule, the under- 
takings of all kinds are managed on a democratic principle ; 
every detail of importance is discussed and settled by the 
votes of all those who take part in the affair. But in the 
enterprises of a military character, requiring special rapidity 
and energy of action, the direction is often entrusted to one 
man called ataman, to whom all the rest give implicit obedience. 

Andrey lifted his head and looked at the bearer of a 
proposal of such gravity. 

“Have you well weighed your choice?” he asked. “I 


214 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


have never been ataman in any affair before, ane this will be 
a particularly serious one.” 

“We could not have a better man than you, if we had 
ordered one to be made on purpose,” Vatajko said warmly. 

He explained the reasons which had determined Andrey’s 
nomination. All the members of the section knew him per- 
sonally, and had full confidence in him. Besides, he was very 
popular with the bulk of the revolutionists of the town, who 
knew him by reputation, and would follow him better than any 
other man. 

“Let it be, then, as you wish,” Andrey said; “I am ready 
to serve in any capacity in an affair like this.” 

“So I told them—so I told them!” Vatajko repeated, 
shaking Andrey’s hand effusively. ‘We all think,” he added, 
“that you need not come to Dubravnik at once. If the police 
get wind that you are there, they’ll be put on their guard. You 
had better remain here till the time draws near. We shall be 
in constant communication, and will consult you upon every- 
thing.” 

Thus it was that once again Andrey was taken from his 
quiet work and his happy uneventful life to be thrown into the 
very vortex of the revolutionary storm. 

He paid a short visit to Dubravnik merely for the purpose of 
trying the ground. Here he learned that Botcharov, on whom 
he had reckoned for the coming affair, and the sisters Dudorov, 
all three had been arrested a few days before. This was very 
unpleasant. But at first he did not ascribe much importance 
to the fact of their arrest ; he thought they would be released 
after a short time. But soon after his arrival Varia Voinova 
called on him. She had been on her usual visit to the prison, 
where she had learned something that had made her cry with 
grief and indignation. Mironov, whom Andrey and Vasily 
had met at the picnic with the sisters Dudorov, had been 
arrested three months ago. From the very first he had shown 
the white feather. Now, in order to exculpate himself and get 
out of prison, the wretch was beginning to confess all that he 
knew, or that he surmised, bringing numbers of people into 
trouble. 

It was in consequence of his revelations that Botcharov 
and the Dudorovs had been arrested. He had spoken, among 
other things, of that unfortunate picnic in the wood, mentioning 
the names of all who were present. ‘The accident, however 





> (ay emcee ee 














= PENDING THE RESPITE. 215 


insignificant in itself, established the fact of an acquaintance 
between the Dudorovs and Botcharov and the active con- 
spirators like Andrey and Vasily. They were all three to be 
tried with Boris,.Zina, and Vasily,—a companionship which 
boded them no good. 

For the rest, Andrey’s impressions were rather favourable. 
As far as the projected rescue was concerned, matters in 
Dubravnik were much better than he had expected. There 
was the best fighting material at hand, and he had formed 
a splendid plan of action. They had a fair chance of success; 
and how glorious such a success would be! His fighting 


instincts were awakened. As to dangers—he did not think 


of them, and, in the bottom of his heart, did not believe in 
them. | 

He returned to Tania high-spirited and happy. But for 
her the days of peace were gone. She fully recognised that 
Andrey was right to go,—that it was absolutely impossible that 
on such occasions her Andrey should remain behind. But 
this was a poor consolation. It did not dispel her fears and 
anxieties about him, 





& 
i 
if 
e 
- 
a 
= 
g 
s 
5 
FE 
Z 
| 
ie 
5 








ee 


- 


@P FOR THE CAUSE. 














ALL FOR THE CAUSE. 


a Sa 
CHAPTER |. 


THE STUTTERER. 


called “The Mounds,”—a name that sounds strangely 

nowadays, for not a single mound can be discovered 
either in its sandy streets or amongst the large “orchards and 
uncared-for gardens. Probably the name was more appropriate 
in times gone by, when the place was first reclaimed from the 
wilderness, for the most part by the nobles of the province 
who wanted residences in the town. Many of the houses still 
bear traces of their origin. The spacious courts are surrounded 
by numerous offices, for the accommodation of the scores of 
servants that always accompanied the nobles in their periodical 
migration into the towns. Stables, coach-houses, bath-houses, 
testify to our fathers’ attempts to preserve as much as possible 
the country mode of life. The houses themselves,—those which 
are not yet pulled down to give place to new ones,—built 
mostly of wood, are not without architectural pretensions. 
Here and there one could see balconies with ornamental 
cornices and balustrades, diminutive turrets surmounted by 
spires, festooned doors and windows, bearing witness to the 
whims and fancies of people who had some kind of artistic 
proclivities. 

After the emancipation, these spired and turreted houses 
of the former slave-owners passed into the hands of the middle 
men that so often succeeded the nobles in the possession of 
their landed estates. The merchants and speculators of all 
sorts who ousted the ruined nobles, did not remain long in 
possession of places unsuitable for business purposes, and little 


()*: of the districts of the good town of Dubravnik is 


220 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 





attractive to them in other ways. They stayed there simply as 
conquerors in a city taken by storm—just long enough to strip 
the estates of all that could be converted into ready money. 

Once again the ‘ Mounds” changed their aspect and their 
population. Houses, offices, and belongings were now rented 
for the most part by small citizens of the working class. For 
them the chief value of the estates was in the land that 
adjoined them—gardens and orchards, which were cultivated 
for vegetables. As to the houses—those they relet to gentle- 
folk, their own families huddled together in some one or other 
of the outbuildings. This arrangement seemed to be perma- 
nent. The proprietors were able to raise the rent rapidly, and 
the tenants were able to scrape the rent together somehow. 
The town supplied a good market for vegetables, turning out 
an always increasing number of people to whom the words 

“nature” and ‘fresh air” had some significance, and who 
were willing to pay a moderate price for enjoying both. 

In one ‘of these houses, at the beginning of the spring, two 
lodgers were sitting before an open window. One of them 
was looking eagerly into the dark street, examining with care 
every new figure that appeared under the dim light of the oil 
lantern. 

It was Vatajko. The other was Andrey, who had come 
over to Dubravnik a fortnight before, and had settled with his 
friend in that quiet place. 

“‘ Nobody coming ?” he asked. 

““ Nobody,” was the answer. 

“Very strange,” Andrey resumed, after a pause. “The 
sitting of the tribunal must have been ended at least three 
hours ago. The Stutterer had ample time to see his cousin 
and to come on here.” 

“Perhaps she hasn’t got an admission ticket,” Vatajko 
suggested. 

“Nonsense!” Andrey exclaimed. ‘* How can they refuse 
a ticket to a girl in her station?” 

‘Then we must assume the Stutterer has blown himself up. 
He is such a punctual man,” Vatajko said, jestingly. 

“It’s possible,” Andrey answered, seriously : “he is so 
careless with his stuff that it might happen to him at any 
moment.” 

“ Hadn’t I better run over to his place and ask?” said 
Vatajko. 











et 


us TT 7 
= m0 ale 





THE STUTIERER. 221 


“ What about? Whether he’s blown up or not?” 

“No. Whether he has seen his cousin, and what she 
told him.” . 

‘Tf he’s blown up, he won’t be able to tell you anything ; 
and if he’s not, he will come here in the meantime, and you'll 
miss him. We’d better wait.” 3 

A long pause followed. 

*‘ But it’s so tiresome!” Vatajko broke out. ‘‘ When the 
Stutterer comes [ll make it hot for him, take my word for 
it !” 

He was casting a last hopeless look ‘in one direction down 
the empty street, when he heard the noise of a carriage ap- 
proaching from the other. 

* Ah, here he is at last!” Vatajko exclaimed, at once for- 
getting his grudge. 

Andrey also went to the window, and saw the Stutterer 
driving rapidly towards them in an open carriage. He wasa 
middle-aged man, with long dark beard reaching almost to his 
belt, and in figure he looked like a Hercules. ‘Touching with 
his long hand the driver’s shoulder, he ordered him to stop at 
the gate. 

This was a transgression of the rules, but he was in too 
great a hurry to pull up at a distance from the house. 

In another minute he entered the room, bowing his head 
so as not to strike it against the lintel of the door. Vatajko 
had already carefully closed the window, let down the blinds, 


_ and lit a pair of candles. 


“ Now, what’s your news?” Andrey asked. ‘Speak out 
quick.” 

“‘In a minute ; give metime to take my coat off. Nothing 
particular, I warn you beforehand,” the visitor answered, stutter- 
ing slightly. 

On closer examination he did not appear to be a Hercules 
at all. He was lean, and stooped somewhat. His beard was 
not dark but light chestnut, descending in two long wisps 
downwards. But his meagre long face was remarkable for a 
pair of grey eyes, glistening and restless. 

“‘ Have you seen your cousin ?” Andrey asked. 

‘*'Yes, I have.” 

“Then sit down and tell us everything in the right order.” 

The Stutterer took a seat, and began his tale. 

The trial they were expecting had actually begun before 





222 : THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


the military tribunal. Little had been done in the first 
sitting, but some inferences could already be drawn by experts 
as to the drift of future proceedings. Most of the members — 
of the bench had been appointed for this special trial by the 
governor, presumably because they offered special pledges of 
servility. : 

Though no military tribunal—ordinary or exceptional— 
offers much guarantee of justice for political offenders, this was 
a bad sign. ‘These precautions showed that the government 
had some especially evil design. ‘The speech of the imperial 
prosecutor, opening the proceedings, was very important from 
this point of view, because in all trials of this kind the bench 
is ruled by the prosecutor. 

As to the three chief prisoners,sonly one charge could be 
expected. Not so for the other three, Botcharov and the two 
Dudorovs, who were innocent of any real offence beyond mere 
acquaintance with conspirators. It was a very bad sign that 
the prosecutor accused them all of having formed one secret 
society, intended for the overthrow of the throne, and so forth. 
Such an interpretation of their mutual relations—if accepted 
by the court—meant death to all six, for death is the penalty 
for conspirators against “‘ the throne.” 

** But is it possible ?” Vatajko broke in. ‘‘ What proofs of 
a conspiracy has the blackguard ”—he meant the prosecutor— 
“brought ?” 

“The famous picnic in the wood, at which Mironoy was 
present,” the Stutterer answered. “The Dudorovs and Botcharoy 
have admitted that they took part in it. From Vasily they got 
no answer whatever, for he remained dumb all through his 
detention. But there again is Mironov, who testifies that 
Vasily was at the picnic with Andrey and Vulitch. Besides, 
the porter in the Dudorovs’ house has recognised the photo- 
graph of Vulitch, and has testified that she called several 
times on the Dudorovs.” 

The Stutterer closed his mouth, considering the matter 
fully explained. 

Botcharov was a friend of the Dudorovs, the Dudorovs were 
friends of Vulitch, Vulitch was a friend of Zina, Andrey, and 
Vasily. 

All the six prisoners were in the same gang. Since some 
of them had admittedly conspired “ against the throne,” the 
rest must have been of one mind with them. 

















THE STUTTERER. 223 


All this the Stutterer had no need to explain to his friends, 
for they had not come from the moon. ‘They were Russians, 
and they knew the old trick only too well. 

** And how are the accused?” Andrey asked, passing on to 
more interesting topics. 

‘** My informant said that they were so absorbed in talking 
with each other after so many months of separation, that they 
paid hardly any attention to the proceedings ; but at one point 
they made a fearful commotion.” 

Then the Stutterer related the peculiar feature of the trial 
which caused that vehement outburst; the foul calumnies 
which the prosecutor—with the permission of the judges— 
thought fit to pour forth upon the accused, the three women 
amongst them especially. 

The Stutterer could not tell all, for he had not been in the 
court himself, and his informant omitted much. But what he 
said was enough to throw Vatajko into a fit of passion. 

“The scoundrels!” he exclaimed, putting both his hands 
to his throbbing temples. ‘I wish I had them a couple of 
yards away, to prove on them the effect of one of our bombs.” 

But not a muscle in the face of his elder companion moved. 

“Why, friend! Did you expect them to behave like decent 
persons 2?” 

“No, but it’s provoking all the same,” he replied. ‘‘ Even 
butchers, when they lead beasts to the slaughter-house, don’t 
throw dirt on their heads.” 

“How could you expect the Emperor’s trusted hound to 
have the delicacy of a butcher?” Andrey said. ‘Besides, who 
cares what fellows of that stamp say or don’t say? They 
would charge their own mothers with adultery, if they were 
well enough paid for it.” 

“ But I can’t believe that all the six will be sentenced to 
death. Three of them have really done nothing!” Vatajko 
exclaimed, clinging to his hope. 

“You are very naive, my boy, I see,” the Stutterer said, 
ironically. 

He fixed for a moment his restless glistening eyes upon 
the young man, and then turned them away scornfully. His 
wife—who also had done nothing—had been torn away from 
him and kept in prison for years, until she went mad, and in a fit 
of suicidal mania had cut her throat with a piece of a broken 
tumbler. Vatajko’s faint-hearted desire to attribute something 


we 


224 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


human to the police excited in him a feeling of indignation 
mitigated only by contempt. iF 

“* As for the sentence,” Andrey said, “I am pretty sure it will 
be that. It will give the governor an opportunity to make a 
show of humanity by commuting the penalty for the sisters 
Dudorov, and probably for Botcharov also. Perhaps the 
tribunal will take something off the prosecutor’s exorbitant 
demands, to make a show of their independence. They al- 
ways arrange comedies of this sort among themselves. I don’t 
think that more than three of the sentences will be confirmed— 
Boris and Vasily for certain, and then either Zina or Botcharov,” 
Andrey concluded, in a somewhat unsteady voice. ‘ But why 
do we speculate upon these matters ?” he added, after a pause. 
“Tell us rather how your work is going on, Stutterer.” 

“Everything is ready. I have prepared bombs for fifty 
men, and two dozen more than were ordered. I have only to 
fit the touch holes. That I can do at a few hours’ notice.” 

They talked of their project, and half-an-hour later the 
Stutterer departed, with somewhat greater precautions than he 
had taken on his arrival. 











ds ee. ne eile 








Le a 





CHAPTER II. 
IN THE TEMPLE OF THEMIS. 


= SHE trial of the six revolutionists lasted five days. It 

ought to have lasted at least three times as long, had 

the tribunal followed the usual forms of procedure 
prescribed by the military code, which certainly does not err 
on the side of slowness. But the town was too much excited 
by the sight of the judicial tragedy which was going on in its 
midst. ‘The general public was excluded from the court. The 
admission tickets were distributed with the utmost care among 
the officials, their wives, and a small number of private citizens 
of unexceptional loyalty. ‘To prevent any possible manifesta- 
tion of sympathy outside, strong patrols of police and gendarmes 
watched all the streets, dispersing those who assembled near 
the court, and taking into custody the obstinate and persistent. 

Yet a swarm of sympathisers and of simple curiosity seekers 
was continually hovering round the place. Whenever any 
gentlemen or ladies came out, they were instantly surrounded 
by a dozen people, perfect strangers to them, who emerged 
nobody knew whence, to question them upon the trial within. 
On xeturning home from the sittings, the people who had got 
in by ticket were sure to find some acquaintance or friend 
waiting for them, who had been unable to gain admittance, but 
who was, as a rule, much more anxious than the privileged 
ones to know about the case. 

From husband to wife, from friend to friend, the sensational 
news spread over the town with surprising rapidity. ‘Though 
the newspaper accounts were exceedingly meagre, and often 
distorted, all those who felt any interest in the matter were 
tolerably well informed as to what was going on. The sym- 
pathy of the general public was as usual with the weaker. 
The daily and hourly reports of the behaviour of the two 
parties were certainly calculated to strengthen these sympathies. 
The town was in a fever of excitement. The contagion spread 

P 





226 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


even to those usually indifferent to politics. Alarmed by the 
symptoms of a growing ferment, which might possibly culminate 
in “disturbances,” the governor of the province privately 
ordered the presiding judge and the imperial prosecutor to 
hasten matters, and to bring on the final act speedily. For- 
malities were hurried through, the proceedings pushed on post 
haste. The comedy grew rapidly towards its tragic end. 

It was known in town that the sentence would be pro- 
nounced on Thursday, the fifth day of the trial. The excite- 
ment of the public, especially a certain section of it, was such 
that the authorities took measures against a possible outbreak. 
The interior of the court was crammed with soldiers and police. 
A battalion of infantry and two squadrons of Cossacks were 
kept under arms in the yard of the Patent Office close by. 
The police patrols were doubled. 

But the number of those who now thronged the place had 
quadrupled. In the evening, after the closing of the factories, 
crowds of workmen joined them. ‘The police were not strong 
enough to keep these back without recourse to firearms. 
These they did not wish to use so soon. 

In the court itself the appearance of the public had con- 
siderably changed within these five days. By dint of entreating 
and pestering their high-class friends and relatives, as well as 
by occasionally bribing some warder, many of those whom it 
was particularly intended to keep out had succeeded in gaining 
admittance. Both prisoners and judges, when they looked at 
the audience, were surprised to see that it was no longer so uni- 
formly “respectable” as at first. . By the side of tchinovniks,— 
some fat, some lean, all clean shaven (as officers in the civil 
service),—and amongst decorated colonels and generals, repre- 
senting the unimpeachably loyal element, one might discover 
people whose aspect was more neutral, and here and there a 
sprinkling of individuals, both men and women, whose loyalty 
was in all probability of the wrong colour. 

In the second row of chairs, the wife of the president 
of the Board of Control—an undoubtedly loyal lady—was dis- 
playing a new rustling silk gown, her showy jewellery, and her 
own chubby beaming face. She was dreadfully afraid of these 
Nihilists, and only came because she was told by a friend 
that it would be so awfully interesting. Her great fear was 
that the women prisoners might scream and fall into hysterics, 
which would shock her very delicate nerves. But at this good 

















ee | 


ee ee 


RE Ts ie hat i 














IN THE TEMPLE OF THEMIS. 227 


lady’s elbow one might see a girl, in whom, by the bold and 
serious expression of her face, it was easy to recognise a 
Nihilist, though she wore her hair long, and had on a 
tolerably fine blue silk dress—borrowed for the occasion. In 
the back rows one could discover unmistakable Nihilist 
faces, students and short-haired unconventionally-dressed girls. 
The curly head and lovely agitated face of Varia Voinova was 
conspicuous among them. She had obtained her ticket from 
the wife of one of the prison officials. To prevail upon the 
timid lady, she had promised that in case of detection she 
would say that she had spirited it away from the table during a 
visit. 

The bench retired at eleven at night to decide in their 
quality of judges and jury upon the question both of guilt and 
punishment. 

They did not return until half-past two in the morning. But 
very few of the public thought of leaving. ‘The verdict had to 
be given at any price. They knew that their expectations 
would not be disappointed, and the longer they waited the less 
was their inclination to leave. The tribunal might return at 
any moment,—and the public waited and waited. The time 
dragged slowly on. The hall, crammed to its full capacity, 
was suffocating, as the windows were carefully closed to pre- 
vent any possible communication between the public within 
and the crowd outside. This added to the general exhaustion 
and weariness. In the grey dull light of the approaching 
morning the court-room looked strangely oppressive. Six 
candles, in silver candlesticks, glimmering upon the judges’ 
table, gave it a lugubrious, funereal aspect. The closely packed 
people were almost silent. Few cared to discuss the probable 
issue of the debates which were evidently going on in the 
consultation room. 

From the prisoners’ box a hum of suppressed voices came, 
uninterruptedly audible throughout the hushed assembly. The 
prisoners knew that after the sentence was read they would be 
separated, and not allowed to see each other until the day of 
execution. They tried to profit by the short time they were to 
be together. Judging by their unbroken rapid talk they were 
in good spirits, and not in the least broken down by the fate 
they anticipated. But the public could not see any of them, as 
they sat all six upon wooden benches, surrounded by twelve 
gendarmes with their drawn swords on their shoulders. 


228 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


The crowd outside the building, which the sleepy and 
exhausted policemen now left to take care of itself, was neither 
so patient nor so calm. They were excited by their victory 
over the police, and, moreover, represented the most turbulent 
section of the population. The Nihilist, or, to speak more 
exactly, the liberal and advanced elements, were in strong force. 
As a part of the loiterers, tired by the long waiting, withdrew, 
these were brought into closer contact, and began to form in 
the front an almost compact body. Many happened to be 
acquainted, and they talked, giving vent to their feelings ~ 
freely, thereby showing clearly that they were not yet con- 
spirators. 

A handkerchief was raised at one of the windows. 

“The verdict !” shouted a voice in the crowd. Instantly all 
noise ceased, and the crowd pressed towards the windows with — 
upturned faces. 

Within, the voice of the usher was announcing the last 
scene of the shameless farce. The tribunal was about to enter 
to read the sentence. 

Rising to their feet as one man, the people stood in breath- 
less expectation. A silence as of death fell upon the many- 
headed crowd. One could almost hear the beating of so 
many hearts,—some in agony of fear for those near to them, 
some in the excitement of the dramatic tension of the moment. 

One by one the six members of the tribunal appeared upon 
the platform, behind the long green table lit by the six lugu- 
brious candles. Their appearance was not exactly what might 
be expected in judges administering justice. Their troubled 
worn-out looks were suggestive rather of a great villainy just 
committed, with full knowledge, than of a stern though painful 
duty fulfilled. ‘The six prisoners who faced them were certainly 
the calmer and more dignified of the two groups. They also 
rose from their seats when the tribunal was announced, and 
now stood in full view of the public. But at first few looked at 
them. All eyes were riveted upon the presiding judge, who, a 
white sheet of paper in his hands, was about to utter the fatal 
words. 

In a voice raised to an unusually high pitch he read the 
preamble, which seemed to last an eternity. At last the first 
words of the sentence were uttered, sending an electric thrill 
throughout the audience. The name of Boris came first, 
followed by along mumbling to which nobody paid attention,— 











hy lament Omg ae an tle a 











IN THE TEMPLE OF THEMIS. 229 


it was the enumeration of his offences. Then a short pause, and 
the sentence—death! ‘Though no one expected him to be 
spared, the word fell upon strained nerves like the blow of a 
hammer. Vasily’s name followed, with a mumbling less irk- 


some, for it was shorter, and then another blow of the hammer 


—death! The nerves shiver, but hold good. The third in the 
roll is Zina, whose fate had been the most discussed, because 
the most uncertain. The silence seemed to have deepened. 
Life or death? life or death? all asked in their hearts, whilst 


‘the long mumbling went on. Offences are heaped upon 


offences. The threatening hammer rises higher and higher, 
then a short suspense, and again it falls with a crash—death ! 

A sigh, gathering into a groan, ran through the hall. All, 
even the most prejudiced, turned their eyes with unmixed 
sympathy and awe upon that young, noble, beautiful woman, 
standing so calmly and modestly in front of her companions. 
Most had expected that, as a woman, she would be spared. 
The sentence was a tremendous shock; but there was a sense 
of relief in the assembly,--the worst was over. The three 
remaining prisoners were so little compromised, or were rather 
not compromised at all, they would be let off with a nominal 
punishment. 

The mumbling affixed to Botcharov’s name, which came 
next, was such as to lull the inattentive audience to complete 
tranquillity. ‘The list was composed of such trifling offences. 
Most people ceased to listen altogether, when suddenly a sus- 
picious quivering in the judge’s voice, a short pause, and the 
sentence—death !—resounded amidst universal stupefaction. 
A wondering “ha!” escaped from all lips. Men looked at 
their neighbours to ascertain whether they had not misheard 
the word. 

“Many thanks, gentlemen judges!” the voice of the con- 
demned man resounds sneeringly. 

No; there was no mistake. He was condemned to die. 
But what for? How? The intense curiosity to hear what 
would follow kept as yet the people’s indignant protest within 
bounds. 

The judge had not the courage to call the prisoner to 
order, and pretended not to hear the interruption, glad that it 
was not something worse, and he hastened on to the following 
name. It was that of the elder Dudorov. This time the 
public followed with strained attention all the circumlocutions 


230 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


and windings of the clumsy summing-up of offences. The 
mumbling seemed interminable. It was all about trifles again. 


Impossible that the extreme penalty should be inflicted. But 


the public was on its guard now. There was the same 
treacherous prolixity, and abstruseness in the statement of 
motives. Some phrases sounded ugly,—doubts, alternated 
with hopes, irritating men’s nerves to the extremity. The 
hammer was hanging in the air,—now rising, now sinking, and 
then rising again. Then the blow was struck at last, it was— 
death ! 

The suppressed passion burst forth on a sudden. Shrieks, 
hysterical cries of women, groans, and curses, filled the air. 
People jump upon their seats, shouting and gesticulating wildly, 
as if they had gone mad on a sudden. It was a scene of dis- 
order such as had never been witnessed within those walls. 

The good lady in the second row—the wife of the chair- 
man of the Board of Control—fainted from her own excite- 
ment, without waiting for the female prisoners to scream. The 
officer commanding the escort, who was personally acquainted 
with her, rushed to her with a decanter of water. But the girl 
in blue silk who sat next her suddenly barred his way. 

“Don’t touch her!” she cried in his face, stretching her 
hand over the reclining body of the lady. 

And such was the intensity of execration in her voice, Her 
gesture, and flashing eyes, that the gallant young man fell back, 
and retreated like a beaten dog; whilst the girl took a glass of 
water from the council table, and gave the senseless woman 
sisterly help. She saw her for the first time, and did not even 
know her name. But she supposed: her to be a sympathiser 
and friend (as she was perhaps at the moment when she fainted), 
and this was sufficient. She must protect her from the hateful 
touch of a gendarme. 

Upon the bench the disorder and confusion were hardly 
less than among the public. 

The presiding judge, the paleness of shame in his face, 
strove to face the storm. He failed completely, but he did not 
order the court to be cleared. He wished, on the contrary, 
that the public should remain and listen to the end of his 
paper, which trembled in his hand. The sixth of the prisoners, 
the younger of the sisters Dudorov, in consideration of her 
youth, was condemned—not to death, as the’ prosecutor had 
asked—but to fifteen years’ penal servitude. They had offered 








ei 














IN THE TEMPLE OF THEMIS. 235! 


this sop to their slavish consciences, and they wished their act 
of courage to be made known. But in the general uproar 
nobody could catch one word of what was read. A young man 
—the same who had waved the handkerchief—opened the 
window, and, leaning out, shouted to the people in the street,— 

“To death! All sentenced to death!” 

He affirmed afterwards that he had heard this distinctly 
read by the presiding judge, though he certainly could not have 
done so. 

A threatening yell was heard in answer from the crowd 
below, adding to the consternation in the court. Some among 
the representatives of the “loyal” elements thought that the 
crowd was about to storm the place, and that they would be 
massacred wholesale. In a fit of panic they began to shriek 
and yell on their own account. The police officer appointed 
to watch outside rushed to the judge. They confabulated for 
a moment, and the policeman ran out by the back way. The 
president had ordered troops to be called out, and the street to 
be cleared at any price. The judges slipped out of sight, 
hiding themselves in the inner rooms, whilst the policemen 
began to clear the hall. 

A bloody encounter seemed imminent. But it did not 
take place. The extreme section—the organised body of revo- 
lutionists—were not favourable to provoking a fight with the 
police. ‘They were all under the direct or indirect influence of 
the men who formed part of Andrey’s conspiracy. Now the 
conspirators had every reason to avoid any armed encounter, 
which would only imperil the more serious work of rescue. 

The manifestation was quite spontaneous, made chiefly by 
outsiders, acting under the impulse of the moment. It was 
good so far as it went, but not further. 

Restraining influences coming from the more extreme to 
the more moderate never fail to produce their effect. Whena 
squadron of Cossacks, followed by infantry, appeared at the end 
of the street, the crowd dispersed, with nothing worse than 
much noise and a few stones thrown at the soldiers. 


CHAPTER III. 


STRUGGLING WITH ADVERSITY. 


deferred for more than for a few days. Two days after. 


[Te carrying out of the death sentence in Russia is rarely 


the verdict,—that is, on the Saturday,—the papers 
announced that the governor-general had commuted the death 
penalty for the elder Dudorov into twelve years’ hard labour, 
and reduced to six years the term of penal servitude for her 
younger sister. ‘This was a very liberal reduction, and excited 
the most sanguine hopes among a large section of the public, 
always glad to dismiss an unpleasant idea on the first plausible 
pretext. It was confidentially expected that the other four 
- would be dealt with as mercifully, though nothing was settled 
yet as to their fate. The governor hesitated, or probably 
waited for instructions from St Petersburg. He was said, 
however, personally to be in favour of leniency. Words to 
this effect were reported by people who either said they had 
heard them themselves, or got them from ‘‘most trustworthy 
sources.” 

As to Andrey and his fellow-conspirators, they did not 
share in these illusions, because they had authentic informa- 
tion about everything that went on in the enemy’s camp. 

They knew that the governor had settled nothing as yet, so 
that the words attributed to him were either fiction or deliberate 
lies. There could be no hope for Vasily or Boris. But it was 
possible that Zina or Botcharov, or perhaps both, would have 
their sentence commuted,—Zina as a woman, Botcharov because 
innocent of any real offence. The only charge against him was 
that he had advanced money for the revolution. But nothing 
could be said for certain as to their fate. All depended on the 
mood for the moment of the St Petersburg authorities. 

The work of conspiracy became distressingly difficult under 
these circumstances. Any imprudence that might lead to its 
discovery would be fatal. All four prisoners would be executed 











4 


many ae 


iow 





+ peat rely A cma ant ea nore 
- 




















STRUGGLING WITH ADVERSITY. 233 


by way of retaliation. The concentration of the direction of 
affairs in the hands of one man proved a great help in this case ; 
the danger of many meetings and consultations was avoided. 
But even for one man it was difficult to act boldly and ener- 
getically under such depressing apprehensions. 

Only seven men were in the secret of the plot up to the 
present moment, although the number of people considered 
necessary for carrying it into effect was about seven times seven. 
It was certainly impossible to attempt anything against the 
- armed escort with a small number, notwithstanding the virtue 
of their extraordinary missiles. The main body of the con- 
spirators had to be recruited a day or two before the time of 
action. ‘This was the safest means of keeping the secret of an 
enterprise that required so many accomplices. The seven men 
forming the backbone of the plot were chosen out of those 
revolutionists of the town who had the largest connections 
in the brotherhood. They had to keep an eye upon from five 
to ten men each, to whom they could make the offer of joining 
the conspiracy with little chance of refusal and no danger of 
betrayal. It rested with Andrey to give the signal for the 
formation of this body. 

This plan combined caution with speed. But as the time 
advanced, it seemed to Andrey more and more urgent to make 
a choice, sacrificing either caution or speed for the sake of the 
other. 

Saturday and Sunday brought nothing new. On Monday 
the rumour spread through the town that a batch of ordinary 
offenders had been seen digging under escort in the Push- 
karsky field. It was there that the gallows would be erected. 
But for how many was it intended? It was far too large to be 
meant for one. For two—three—or for all four? The town 
was again agitated with rumours, this time of the gloomiest 
nature. ‘The same people who three days before had spoken 
with confidence of a respite, now asserted the very opposite. 

Andrey knew that these rumours were as baseless as their 
predecessors. The governor kept his own counsel, speaking to 
nobody about the affair. But the delay was in itself suspicious. 
Political offenders have been executed almost by stealth within 
a few hours of the signing of the sentence, to avoid any possible 
agitation of the public mind. Suppose that the governor 
intended to do this now? Between the fear of having no time 
to get ready for action, and the danger of having their secret 


234 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


divulged by setting the plot on foot too early, it was difficult to 
choose. 

Andrey resolved to stick to his earlier plan, and to wait 
until the last. He had been fortunate enough to establish, 
through the medium of a girl, a cousin of the Stutterer, 
excellent communications with the very headquarters of the 
enemy. He would know all about the impending execution 
within two hours after the orders issued from the governor’s 
study. ‘Thus, if the worst came to the worst, he would still 
have seven or eight hours available. All the fifty men could 
not be assembled on so short a notice, but they would have 
thirty or forty for certain. It was better to run the risk of 
having smaller numbers, than of giving warning to the police. 
It was unlikely, however, that the governor would be so forget- 
ful to keep up the appearance of dignity as to order a very 
hasty execution. 

Andrey never left his room for a minute, as the girl he 
expected might come at any time. 

On the night between Monday and Tuesday, Andrey was — 
sleeping with the light uncertain sleep of expectation, when a 
slight knock at the window made him start up wide awake. 

He opened the window, and, looking out, saw in the 
shadow of the wall the dark form of a woman, too small for 
Xenia, the girl whom he expected. 

“Who are you?” Andrey asked, in a whisper. 

“J am Xenia Dmitrievna’s maid. She could not come 
herself, and she sends this letter,” whispered the voice from 
below. 

*‘ Give it me!” Andrey exclaimed, stretching out his hand. 

*T don’t know you,” the girl said, stepping back; ‘‘I am 
ordered to deliver the message into Alexander llitch’s own 
hands.” 

Andrey turned to wake Vatajko, but he was already at the 
window. He exchanged greetings with the girl, whom pro- 
bably he had seen before, for Andrey noticed a smile of recog- 
nition upon the face below. ‘Then a white envelope glistened 
rapidly in the faint light as it passed from hand to hand. The 
girl departed, as if seized with sudden fear, without giving time 
for thanks. 

A small night-light was burning in the corner of their bed- 
room. In times of exceptional danger, when the police might 
intrude at any moment, Andrey was wont always to have a 











STRUGGLING WITH ADVERSITY. 235 


light burning at night. With the precious and awful message 
in his hand, he sat down upon the floor beside the light, bend- 
ing over it so that the glimmer might fall upon the sheet, and 
ran his eyes over the following words, traced in pencil :— 

“The sentence confirmed by the governor for all four. 
Execution fixed for Wednesday next, at ten in the morning, at 
Pushkarsky field.” 

It was signed “X.” That meant Xenia. 

For a moment he remained sitting on the floor, collecting 
his thoughts. ‘The news struck him more than he cared to 
confess. He had entertained no hope as to Boris or Vasily. 
But Zina, Botcharov—Botcharov especially. 

It is only just and fair that good and benevolent people 
should pity most the innocent victims of Russian despotism. 
The revolutionists themselves, who hold their own views upon 
the question of “ guilt” and “innocence ” in these matters, also 
pity most their innocent companions, for these are the truly 
unfortunate among them. ‘They have done nothing, and they 
are not prepared beforehand to meet their hard fate. They 
die with regret, perhaps with remorse, that they have been too 
cautious, too slow in the past, and all to no purpose. This 
Botcharov was no longer a stranger to Andrey, who had learned 
to appreciate and to love him during the trial, in which the 
gallant and ready-witted young man had played so brilliant a 
part. Through all these days of anxiety perhaps nobody’s fate 
weighed on him so much as Botcharov’s. And now he was to 
be hanged, and Zina also. 

** Read it aloud!” Vatajko urged. 

Andrey rose, and handed the letter to him. He could not 
read it himself, and he absolutely did not hear the exclamation 
which escaped from his friend. This brutal cynical insult 
threw him into one of those fits of rage, when the resentment 
and indignation of a civilised man change into the unbridled 
fury of the primitive savage. The wild, the unreasoning thirst 
for revenge, for returning pain for pain, outweighed everything 
else within him. Pale of face, his teeth clenched, he trampled 
rapidly up and down the small room, as a hungry ‘animal paces 
up and down its cage. 

Vatajko sat on the bed, his back bent, the letter still in his 
hand, following his friend with his eyes. 

“Well,” Andrey said, regaining mastery over himself; 
“perhaps itll turn out for our good. Our men will fight 


236 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


better, and strike without sparing. Now I must go to head- 
quarters.” 
Vatajko had at once to make the round of their fellow- 
conspirators in order to summon them to an early meeting. 
“As soon as it is day,” Andrey said, “‘ you will go to the 
Stutterer and tell him to be ready with the bombs and every- 


thing for the afternoon. At six you will go with a car to fetch 


them, and carry them—you know where.” 

“Yes, I know.” 

“ Good-bye, then. I must be off at once.” 

It was about four in the morning when Andrey came out 
into the street. He had thirty hours before him, quite enough 
to do everything thoroughly and without haste ; but he wished 
the first meeting of his fellow-conspirators to take place before 
the news of the confirmation of the sentence was made public. 

- Quickening his pace, he reached headquarters in half-an- 
hour. He entered with the help of a latch-key, unnoticed, 
unheard. All in the house were asleep. His companions 
would not begin to assemble for an hour yet. Whilst waiting 
for them, he made his own preparations. 

With a map of the town before him, he traced the road 
which the procession must take. Thanks to the practical 
knowledge of the town he possessed, he could easily and at 
once choose the best place for action. He fixed his mind 
upon a short street, between two turnings of the road, not very 
far from the place of execution. It might be thickly crowded 
on account of its position, but this disadvantage was com- 
pensated by an exceptionally good retreat,—first, through a 


series of narrow lanes, where the troops could be easily kept . 


back by bombs ; second, through the public garden, which 
stood on the bank of the river. In the garden, the high iron 
gates could be closed, and locked with two or three big locks 
that it would be easy to buy during the day. Moreover, some 
torpedoes, which the Stutterer had invented, and which he 
recommended very highly, could be placed there to impede yet 
more the pursuing troops. 


The conspirators had a boat, already fitted up, for it was 


intended from the first to make use of the river. Now the 
boat could be moved to the wharf of the garden, and could 
take on board the four rescued prisoners, and such as were 
wounded. The rest of the assailants were to issue from the 
farthest end of the garden, protected by the bushes, and mix 





—--~ 


ania hie te 











. — , cues ' , , pase) amas 
u 7 opti te . 2 FB LPR 9 aly LEE ae en ae 
ln eae _ 


STRUGGLING WITH ADVERSITY. 237 


quietly with the crowd waiting for the execution in the Push- 
karsky field. 

Andrey’s colleagues flocked in rapidly from various sides. 
At a quarter to six all seven were there, and a small council 
of war was held. It was very short. 

“You have heard?” Andrey asked them as they came in. 

“We have heard,” they glee and they plunged at 
once into the matter. 

Andrey laid down in a few otis his plan, which was ap- 
proved without discussion. He was told the place and time 
of the three meetings at which the rest of the recruits were to 
be assembled. It was decided beforehand that they should 
have several small meetings instead of one big one. Andrey 
had to come, if only for a short time, to each of these three 
meetings. This was thought useful, and was not difficult to 
manage. 

_ All was settled in little more than half-an-hour, and the 
seven men started to their different quarters. 

In the meantime the news, which had awaked the con- 
spirators, had been quietly set up by the compositors, and was 
about to be offered to the peaceful citizens of Dubravnik as a 
morning greeting. 

Few were the readers whose heart did not ache at the 
announcement that four persons, of whom one was a woman, 
were to be executed. Russians are not accustomed to capital 
punishment. _ The penalty of death has been abolished for more 
than a century for all except political offences. Long terms of 
penal servitude are considered a sufficient punishment for all 
other crimes, however heinous. This distinction the public 
conscience has never been able to endorse. No amount. of 
persuasion will induce the simple unsophisticated people to 
believe that political offenders, whoever they be, are worse than 
murderers or incendiaries, or highway robbers. ‘The educated 
and thinking people felt only pity, indignation, or rage, accord- 
ing to their individual temperaments and opinions. 

The chosen men were certainly not among the lukewarm. 
Most of them had received their summons, and had given their 
promise to come for the discussion of public business of im- 
portance, before they had read in the papers the news of the 
impending execution. But after reading it, all guessed and 
hoped that this was to be the object of the mysterious meeting 
to which they were called. When they were told that every- 


238 THE CAREER OF A NIHBILIST. 


thing was already prepared, and when they heard the outlines 
of the plan and the name of the man who was to be their 
leader, there was everywhere a unanimous adhesion, every- 
where confidence in success. Andrey appeared at the three 
meetings, with all his usual coolness of head, and with the 
fierce indignation of that especial day. In his present mood 
he was exactly the man for the occasion. 

On returning to his headquarters from the last of them, 
Andrey had a very pleasant surprise. . David had been waiting 
for him there for some time. He was on the other side of the 
frontier, on an errand of his, when a letter from St Petersburg 
informed him of what was going on in Dubravnik. He left 
immediately for Mother Russia, travelling day and night, and 
reached Dubravnik just in the nick of time. 

“T came to put myself under your orders, Andrey,” he 
said. “You'll give me something to do, I suppose.” 

“As much as you like, old boy,” was the cheerful reply. 

Andrey had improved greatly since the morning. Contact 
with his new comrades had cheered him. He was satisfied 
with the men whom he had to lead in the morrow’s fight, at 
least as thoroughly as they were satisfied with him. 

“We may fairly hope to carry the day,” he said to David. 
‘With missiles like ours fifty men can do much, if they’re deter- 
- mined to fight in earnest. And they are determined, take my 
word for it. You'll see some samples presently. We have 
our last council of war here at seven, to get everything in order.” 

At the appointed time the men began to come, one by one. 
David knew some of them, and was introduced to the others 
as their new companion. 

The council was brighter, noisier, and more thorough-going 
than that held in the morning. The work of organisation, 
which then they had contemplated as possible, was now actually 
carried out. Like Andrey, all felt that it could not have been 
managed better. ‘They were hopeful, and they did not regard 
the danger which they had to encounter for so good a cause. 

The business was entered upon as soon as all were 
assembled. Discussion there was none; the time was too 
precious. But many were the suggestions given by all, which 
Andrey either accepted at once or rejected, giving his decision 
as final, and not to be questioned. The general plan was very 
simple. ‘To-morrow, at seven in the morning, Andrey with 
ten men would be on the spot to secure the position before- 











STRUGGLING WITH ADVERSITY. 239 


hand. The other forty were to keep out of sight at several places 
in the neighbourhood. He would send them word to come 
up in batches as the crowd of spectators gathered in the street. 
It would be dangerous to have all of them crowded together at 
one point, if the rest of the road was thinly occupied. In case 
the crowd should be dense, they would have to place them- 
selves in front of it, in two half platoons facing each other. 
This was to prevent their being overthrown and scattered by 
the rush of panic-stricken people. ‘The crowd would then run 
away behind, without interfering with them. 

If, on the other hand, the place was thinly occupied, the 
conspirators would have to be scattered about. In that case, 
Andrey with his ten men would form a sort of vanguard, to 
stop the procession, and give time for the rest to rush up from 
all points. All this, and many other things, could be settled at 
the decisive moment. 

“Now,” said Andrey, looking at his watch, “it’s time to go 
for our arms.” 

It was half-past seven. The bombs must have been 
brought by this time from the Stutterer’s house by Vatajko. 
They had to be taken by the seven men and carried to places 
of safety, so that they might be distributed to their people 
early on the morrow. It was considered dangerous to let the 
fifty conspirators have the missiles by themselves during the 
night. Haphazard domiciliary visits might be made by the 
police on the eve of the execution. A bomb discovered 
somewhere by chance, would put them on their guard at once. 

The more usual arms, such as revolvers, could be distributed 
at once. 

The council ended, and the men rose to depart. They 
had to meet next day on the battle-field. 

From what Andrey remembered of classical history, he 
knew that it is the duty of captains on similar occasions to 
address his companions. But he was not a man of many 
words, and he was afraid that it would appear foolish if he 
began exhorting these men. 

“Until to-morrow, then!” he said simply, as he exchanged 
a hearty shake of the hand with each of them. 

The first party was about to leave, when David called 
Andrey’s attention to a suspicious-looking individual hanging 
about their house. 

“JT have seen him for the last ten minutes,” David said. 





240 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


He seems to pay particular attention to our windows, although 
he tries not to show it.” 

Andrey looked into the street. 

“Oh, it’s a friend!” he said, reassuringly, recognising a 
menial clerk of the police, who for a small fee kept him well 
informed upon all he could learn in his official capacity. 

“The man is looking for a signal in the windows that the 
coast is clear, and that he may come to see Vatajko or me.” 

He asked his friends not to go yet. The clerk’s communi- 
cation might be of interest to all of them. 

‘Don’t come near the windows,” he admonished some of 
the curious. ‘The man is very timid, and may be easily 
scared away.” 

The windows were deserted, and Andrey was able to have 
his few minutes’ talk with the clerk undisturbed. 

When he returned, his face was far from calm, though he 
looked much more angry than troubled. 

“The police have already got wind of our affair,” he said 
sternly. ‘Some one has blabbed. It’s disgraceful !” 

“How? what? Impossible! Are you sure of what you 
say ?” were the simultaneous outcries of protest. 

“There is no doubt. The man told me, that shortly before 
the closing of the offices a police inspector rushed in, asking 
for the head of the police. Five minutes later, they both went 
hurriedly to the governor. ‘They were much excited, and talked 
in a subdued voice as they passed the office. The clerk affirms 
positively that he heard the words ‘dynamite bombs’ muttered. 
Invent or dream them he could not, for he had no idea of our 
plans himself. The story tells its own tale, I suppose.” 

‘The assembly was dumbfoundered. “The fact was there, 
undeniable, unmistakable, yet past all comprehension. Con- 
spirators are not always discreet, as they should be. Some of 
the newly enlisted men might have talked to a sister, a sweet- 
heart, or an intimate friend. ‘This was within human possi- 
bilities. That is why the majority had to be enlisted at the 
last moment. But the secret could not have been spread so 
far in that way. Only downright treason could account for so 
rapid a discovery. 

The same offensive, degrading thought was to be read in 
the eyes of all the seven, as they looked in each other’s faces. 

Hurriedly the seven heads were put together. Hasty ques- 
tions were passed, and answered in whispers,—questions too 














Vv 


STRUGGLING WITH ADVERSITY. 241 





shocking to be said aloud, especially in presence of Andrey and 
David, who were for the moment two “strangers.” 

“No, it was impossible. They had asked no one but 
reliable people!” all of the seven protested energetically, vouch- 
ing for their men. “The police, in hourly expectation of some 
plot, had probably got frightened by some phantom of their 
own imagining. ‘The real facts could not have leaked out; 
the incident would have no ill consequences, because the 
error must needs be soon discovered, and the suspicions would 
be allayed.” 

A loud ring of the bell at the entrance, accompanied by 
a peremptory knock at the door, relieved Andrey from the 
necessity of answering. He only ironically nodded his head at 
the door, and drew his revolver. 

All understood the signal, and drew their arms also, resolved 
to sell their lives dearly. David alone, though an “illegal” man, 
was unarmed. But he did not want to be behind the rest, and 
he took a beautiful bright American ‘‘five-shooter” from a friend 
who was very fond of firearms, and had a spare one with him. 

With his back against the wall, his big revolver in his right 
hand, Andrey gloomily unbolted the door with his left. 

When it was flung open, the friends within heard—not a shot, 
but an angry exclamation from Andrey. 

“What the deuce! Why couldn’t you announce yourself 
in a more sensible fashion ? ” 

**T was in such a hurry,” Vatajko apologised, for it was he. 

“The bombs are already delivered, I suppose?” Andrey 
asked, relenting. 

**No,” Vatajko answered; “the bombs could not be de- 
livered.” 

“How! not delivered yet? What have you been doing 
all this time, then?” Andrey flew at him again. 

They were in the room, with the eight other men looking 
at them anxiously. 

“ A great misfortune!” Vatajko burst forth. ‘The Stutterer 
is wounded; perhaps dead by this time. ‘There was an ex- 
plosion in his room about mid-day. As we passed the house 
with our hand-cart, we saw that all the windows in his floor 
were blown out, some completely torn away. It must have 
been something terrible !” 

‘‘But the bombs? How about the bombs?” Andrey 
asked. ‘‘ Have you been in the house?” 

Q 


242 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 





‘*No, we haven’t been in. We saw the police inspector 
enter itat that very moment. Men, whom I took for detectives, 
were busy in the courtyard. We could see that the house 
was invested by the police.” | 

That was bad indeed ; terribly bad! 

* What did you do then 2” Andrey asked. ‘‘ Have you 
ascertained whether this was the case ?” 

“Yes. We passed on, and then I left the cart in charge 
of the other fellow, and returned to the house from the river 
side. The gardener’s daughter was working in the orchard ; 
I went up and spoke to her. She told me that there had been 
an explosion, that the Stutterer was lying unconscious upstairs, 
and that the police were in the house. I told her not to tell 
any one that she had spoken to me, and hid myself in some 
bushes behind the palings. Through a chink I could see the 
gates and a part of the courtyard. I saw two prison carriages 
come in. Immediately the Stutterer was carried out upon a 
litter, and locked up into one of them. Then the men brought 
from the house, with the utmost caution, various things, which 
they put in the second carriage. Some big boxes first, then a 
lot of jars, and then the bombs, which they carried out one by 
one, the police inspector keeping at a distance. 

“TJ did not wait any longer, but hastened here to tell you 
everything. There was nothing to wait for.” 

He ended, amidst a general silence. 

Yes, there was nothing more to wait for, nothing to hope 
for any longer! Andrey knew it too well. Had they but been 
in possession of the missiles, he would have defied everything 
and attempted the rescue on the morrow, no matter if the 
enemy were forewarned. But now all was at an end, every- 
thing had collapsed! In fourteen hours, Zina, Boris, Botcharov, 
and Vasily would be hanged. ‘There was no chance for one 
of them. And they were so hopeful, so certain, that their 
march to the scaffold would be their march to freedom... . 
He pressed his forehead against his clenched fist in an 
agony of despair. It would have been better that nothing had 
ever been tried, than to have such hopes wrecked at the last 
moment. 

Nobody was inclined to break the silence. It was one of 
these moments when everybody congratulates himself that he 
is not the leader, and that not upon him devolves the duty of 
finding some issue out of the pathless maze. 











STRUGGLING WITH. ADVERSITY. 243 





“\What’s to be done now?” David asked Andrey, giving 
utterance to what each of those present was thinking. 

As Andrey raised his head, he saw all eyes fixed upon him 
with the same question. ‘This surprised him greatly. : 

**What’s to be done!” he exclaimed. ‘ Don’t you see that 
the one thing we can do for our condemned friends now, is to 
warn them that no hope is left, so that they may have some 
time to prepare themselves for meeting their fate!” 

A groan sounded through the room. The advice seemed 
so strange and unexpected from Andrey. ‘Through their very 
reliance upon him some of them were slow in coming to a 
conclusion. ‘The decision to which Andrey had been hurried, 
within the last few moments, was a surprise to them. 

Objection and protest were raised, and grew louder and 
louder. They urged that the attempt must be made, even 
without the bombs. ‘They were fifty men, resolved to fight to 
_the Jast. There was still time to increase their number, and 
- to find arms for as many, or perhaps more. Why should they 
give up everything ? 

Vatajko was among the most ardent partisans of fight-at- 
any-price, dwelling on the shame of withdrawal, with all the 
bluntness of expression common to Russians on similar occa- 
sions. ‘To Andrey’s surprise, David seemed to approve of the 
same line of conduct. But it was useless; he had quite 
made up his mind. What could a handful of men, armed with 
daggers and revolvers, do against rifles and serried lines of 
bayonets, especially now that the authorities were forewarned ? 
It would be a wholesale and useless slaughter, that would dis- 
hearten the people, instead of inspiring them as a _ good 
example. 

“Then you need not take part in it!” Vatajko exclaimed, 
losing all self-control. “If you refuse, we'll go by ourselves. 
But we will not look on with folded hands while a woman is 
hanged !” 

Andrey was at this moment as incapable of reproving the 
breach of discipline as of feeling personal offence. 

**My friend,” he said, putting his hand on Vatajko’s 
shoulder, “why do you want to sadden the last moments of 
our condemned friends? We can’t possibly rescue any of 
them; we shall be all slaughtered before their eyes. Why 
should we aggravate with such a sight a trial in itself hard 
enough ?” 





244 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


The young man bowed his head, and was silent. Nobody 
spoke again. The meeting dispersed mournfully, to undo what 
they had done; and Andrey hastened to fulfil his last duty to 
his friends, to let them know everything, that they might have 
no vain hope. ‘They must go to meet their fate, with eyes open 
as became people such as they. 

He took the letter to the prison warder who carried his 
correspondence for him. He learned afterwards that his letter 
reached its destination that very evening. It was even 
answered by Zina, in the name of her companions. Her letter 
was not a sad one; if anything, it was rather cheerful. But 
the reading of it tore Andrey’s heart, and made him, the man 
of iron nerve, cry like a child, because, delayed in transmission, 
it reached him two days after all was over, and the hand that 
wrote those touching lines was cold and stiff, and the heart 
that inspired them had ceased to beat. 








RRS ee eee een 





ae ee 


CHAPTER IV. 


AN EDIFYING SIGHT. 


him a thrust in the side. At the same moment the 

bell at the neighbouring belfry was striking the hour. 
He looked at his watch, which lay upon the stool by his bed- 
side with his revolver and dagger. It was five o’clock. Then 
he understood. On the previous day, whilst still in the full 
swing of preparations for the coming fight, he had fixed in his 
mind that he must wake up at five, to be on the spot in time. 
Andrey possessed that power of waking up at will at a fixed 
hour. He had not thought of it, and now he woke up me- 
chanically, though there was no longer anything to be in a 
hurry about. 

The night before, he had come home late, thoroughly 
exhausted by the ungrateful task of preventing any mad out- 
burst of the hot-headed,—a task he was unwilling to shift entirely 
to his companion’s shoulders. But the few hours of rest did 
not restore him, because even in sleep a dim sense of the 
reality never altogether left him. He woke with the full con- 
sciousness of what the coming day would bring with it. 

Vatajko slept in the same room, with the happy soundness 
of twenty. Andrey thought of waking him before going out, 
but on second thoughts he abstained. The young man’s 
good-natured hairy face looked so calm and contented in sleep, 
it was a pity to call him before it was necessary to the 
miseries of reality. 

Andrey dressed, and forced himself to eat a crust of bread. 
Then he left the room noiselessly and went downstairs. 

The sun had by this time already risen, though hidden by 
a thin mist which covered the sky and promised rain. The 
town was still asleep; the shutters were closed everywhere. 
Dustmen, woodcarriers, night cabmen, returning to their inns, 
broke the silence of the empty streets. Here and there a 


\ NDREY awoke with a start, as if some one had given 


246 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


porter was sweeping the footpath before a house. The pas- 
sengers were few, and for the most part hurried along. But 
among them Andrey met several men with slow walk, haggard 
eyes, and sad worn faces, whom he guessed at once to be his 
fellow-sufferers,—friends or acquaintances of the condemned, or 
more probably simple sympathisers, whom that night of agony 
had driven, like him, from their roofs into the open air. To judge 
by appearances, they must have wandered long, perhaps all 
through the gloomy night, trying to wear out by bodily fatigue 
their mental distress. : 

Without any thought or distinct feeling, save a dull gnawing 
pain, Andrey walked whither his feet carried him, until he 
found himself unexpectedly at a place he well remembered. 
He stopped to look round. The street was flanked by two 
rows of tall white houses. A slanting lane opened into it on 
his left, and down it could be seen the projecting corner of 
another street. The public garden was farther on. ‘This was 
the place where they had intended to strike their blow. He 
came to it he knew not how. Yesterday he had been there, 


full of hope, to verify with his own eyes the details of the map — 


before he led his men to the fight. 

That was only a few hours ago, but now it all seemed no 
more than a vague and distant dream. Yet it was not a dream, 
but a thing within the reach of their hands, if ever anything was. 

He sat down on a curbstone, thinking despondently. How 
different would have been his feelings here and now but for an 
unfortunate accident! What could have been the cause of 
that explosion which ruined everything? Accident or impru- 
dence? . Probably imprudence. ‘The man had grown accus- 
tomed to deal with his precious stuff as if it were nothing more 
than dough. In the haste of the last hours he had probably 
been more heedless than ever. But Andrey could not think 
harshly of the Stutterer at this moment. He was too sad to 
feel anything but pity towards him. Poor man! he wished 
him dead. It must be so horrible for him to know he was the 
involuntary cause of such a tremendous collapse. Yet he 
might have the ill fortune to survive, and then he would be 
hanged a month hence. Victims! victims! no end of them. 
The scoundrels have not time to kill off one batch, before another 
is filled up from among the best, the noblest. 

At this juncture a pair of the “scoundrels” of whom he was 
thinking appeared at some distance patrolling the street. One 








= 














AN EDIFYING SIGHT. 247 


was an Officer, another an underling of the police service. Both 
were insignificant, utterly despicable, samples of their species, 
But what did it matter? They were two of that species still, 
and they were within reach of his hand. As he saw them 
approach, a wild hunger for revenge set, his blood boiling. All 
the reckless words and proposals of his hot-headed friends of 
the Vatajko type, which he had so vigorously rejected the 
night before, seemed to have been merely stored up, and were 
repeated now in his mind with the self-same tones and words 
that he had heard yesterday. But this time they were con- 
vincing. ‘The holster of his revolver moved forward of itself; 
the handle of his dagger pressed caressingly the palm of his 
hand. A well-combined plan of assault achieved itself instantly 
in his head, without his will taking any part. Fortunately his 
reason was as yet not altogether swamped. He jumped up 
from the curbstone, and, without turning his head, went away 
swiftly, fearing that he might yield to the foolish temptation 
when the men were within arm’s length. 

No, he had presumed too much upon his nerves. If the 
sight of these two poor wretches excited him to such a degree, 
what would it be when he saw the execution? He would cer- 
tainly betray himself in some way. Better not go at all than 
risk that. And what for? He would have an opportunity of 
seeing closely enough the details of at least one execution—his 
own to wit, when histurn came. But he was certainly not pre- 
pared voluntarily to lose a single one of the days allotted for his 
share of the struggle. 

He resolved to walk, and walk without stopping, until the 
time fixed for the execution hyd passed, and then to return to 
headquarters. 

He plunged into a maze of small streets leading to the 
centre of the town, intending to cross straight through it. But 
the more he advanced, the more his movements were impeded 
by the crowds of people moving in the opposite direction. 
The streets were blocked with them. There were hundreds, 
thousands, walking, riding, running towards the same point, 
hurrying to secure the best places. 

Were they thinking of what they were about to stare at? 
Did any of them understand it? With whom were they in 
sympathy? With those to be killed, or with those who were 
to kill them? Nothing could be guessed from these wooden 
faces, which kept their secret well, if they had one to keep. 


248 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


Would they wear that mask to the last, or presently drop it, 
showing love or hatred—anything human—behind it? 

The wooden faces, the jackets, the coats,—long and short, 
blue, grey, black,—the women’s gowns and men’s hats, grew 
thicker and thicker. They now blocked the way altogether 
with a compact mass, through which one had to force a passage 
by dint of hard elbowing. What for? Was there anything he 
wanted to reach beyond? Andrey ceased to struggle. His 
face also became wooden, as by contagion ; and he abandoned 
himself to the hurrying stream of human beings, taking automa- 


tically the direction, in which he was carried by it. They walked 


tolerably quickly at first, then more slowly and slowly. How 
long the time was Andrey could not tell. He only knew that 
it was very long. _Now and then they had to stop, the passage 
being impeded by other crowds moving in from other streets. 
As the people were pressed closer together, the buzz of their 
voices became louder. Andrey heard the talking, wooden as 
the faces, jarring upon his ears with its flatness and vulgarity. 
But for his life he could not have remembered a single word he 
heard. 


Then there was a longer pause, as that of many streams 


converging upon the one narrow entrance into a broad sea. 
When the obstruction ceased, and the crowd hurried forward 
again, Andrey found himself suddenly free in an open square, 
and he shuddered from head to foot. High before him, against 
the clear sky, rose four black gallows,—angular, motionless, 
horrible! He looked instinctively at his neighbours right and 
left: the extremes of mirth and the extremes of horror must 
be shared with fellow-men. All eyes were fixed on the same 
black angular things, and the wooden faces wore now an expres- 
sion of fear and consternation. The crowd pressed onwards 
nevertheless, and Andrey with it. 

The four black gallows stood upon a black platform with a 
black balustrade, and black steps in the middle by which the 
condemned would ascend to the platform. Andrey could see 
from his place the ropes and the blocks and the rings. The 
ropes oscillated slowly, slowly, in the air, and seemed as heavy 
as if they were about to break away from the cross-beams. A 
merry-looking square-built man, with a small flaxen beard, 
dressed in a red shirt and velvet Russian coat, his hat set 
dashingly on one side, walked up and down the black platform. 
This was the hangman, waiting to get to work. At the foot of 





AN EDIFYING SIGHT. 249 


the black steps was a motley group of men in military uniforms, 
with serious faces. Several of them were on horseback. All 
this—the black platform, and the group of figures and the 
horsemen—was clasped in on all sides by a thick ring of 
infantry, their bayonets glistening in their hands. Death alone 
could pass these walls of flesh and iron, cold and hard as stone. 
At some distance from that first living wall stood another, 
formed of squadrons of cavalry. -They were not very far from 
the spectators, so that their faces could be seen, and it would 
be hard to determine which looked more indifferent, the horses, 
or the men upon them. Another space, narrower than the 
former, was kept clear behind the horses’ haunches ; and then 
-came a thin line of policemen on foot, to keep the crowd from 
intruding upon it. 

Fresh torrents of people continually poured forth upon the 
square, occupying every corner of ground left for their use, all 
staring in patient expectation at the high black platform on 
which the monster they all so dreaded—death—was to burst 
forth in person,—awful, yet for them innocuous,—and begin its 
ghastly dance, on which they would look horror-stricken and 
fascinated, as monkeys are by the eyes of a serpent. 

It was not for this disgraceful show that Andrey had come. 
He wanted to see for the last time the faces of his friends, per- 
haps to exchange a look of silent farewell with them. Through 
the double row of soldiers between them it was impossible to 
obtain that in this position. 

He extricated himself from the throng, and passing before a 
line of mounted gendarmes, who watched the crowd from 
behind, he made his way to the street by which the condemned 
would enter the square. ‘Two rows of police kept the middle 
clear for the passage of the car and the escort, but the footpaths 
were so completely blocked by spectators that it was impossible 
to find room there. Andrey made a short circuit, coming out 
on the street farther on, where it was not thronged so densely. 

He took his stand and waited. ‘The spectators here were 
genuine representatives of the ‘‘ masses,” all others having pre- 
sumably secured better places. It was interesting to observe 
them. The people seemed to have been waiting here for a 
long while, for they had time to become acquainted with one 
another, and to get tired of the long wait. ‘They seemed to 
have entirely forgotten the object which called them from their 
homes, Andrey listened attentively, trying to catch what they 


250 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


were talking about. Very few spoke of anything connected 
with the coming execution. 

An old woman who stood in front of him scolded a girl for 
having forgotten to put the porridge in the oven before she left, 
an omission which meant a row when the men came home to. 
dinner. A tall slim lad, with sloping shoulders, and long neck 
clasped closely by a chintz shirt, was biting off the husks of sun- 
flower seed with an air of perfect content, caring only as it 
seemed about spitting the husks as far as possible towards the 
middle of the street. A buxom young woman, a baby on 
her bosom, pushed herself to the front- beyond the prescribed 
line. The young policeman standing on duty near came to 
remind her of this trespass, making some coarse joke on the 
trouble she would have in getting another baby if the one she 
now had was trampled to death by the horses. The woman 
retorted sharply, and the crowd laughed good-humouredly. 
But at Andrey’s back a voice was now raised, continuing some 
discussion, evidently upon politics. 

“Oh, no! Not against the Tzar. Gentlemen against 
gentlemen, I tell you. Nobody can lift his hand against the 
Tzar, because no weapon can touch him.” 

Andrey turned his head. The speaker was a middle-aged 
man, in the blue national overcoat, probably a small shop- 
keeper. His companion, who looked like a sexton or an under- 
taker’s assistant, answered something in a low voice, which 
Andrey could not catch. 

Upon his right a genuine peasant, in a grey overcoat, with a 
thin sunburnt face and small grizzly beard on a protruding 
chin, was also talking politics to another peasant, though these 
“‘ politics ” were somewhat of a curious nature. 

**So they laid hold on the four ; those who will be executed 
to-day. But the fifth, who was their chief, was not caught, 
because he transformed himself into a yellow cat, and escaped 
up the chimney. But he returned always in the shape of a cat 
to visit the old place. Then they caught him for good, and 
now the bishop is reading from the holy books over him, to 
break the spell and compel him to resume the shape of a man 
again.” . 

“‘ Really !” the other exclaimed, wonderingly. 

“Of course. People say it was in all the newspapers.” 

Andrey remembered then that the “‘ penny-a-liners ” of the 
press had made much fuss about Zina’s yellow cat, found in her 








OE te ena 


ee Tle le 





—<_ 7° = 
" 


AN EDIFYING SIGHT. 251 


10dging mewing for food the day after the arrest. Of the whole 
catastrophe, it was this incident that struck most the popular 
fancy, and gave rise to the curious tale. 

At this moment an indistinct murmur ran all along the 
crowd, which swayed and rustled like the underwood of a forest 
shaken by a gust of wind. 

-“ They are coming ! they are coming! ” whispered thousands 
of voices. 

Instantly all talk was interrupted in the middle of a word. 
In the dead silence a distant rumble of drums was heard. 

An orderly galloped along the road towards the place of 
execution. A detachment of Cossacks followed at a trot on 
their spirited horses. The people looked at them as they 
passed, but not one head turned to followthem. They waited, 
all eyes fixed in the same direction, with the same expression 
of awe and expectation. ‘The solemn procession they looked 
for appeared at last, sending a nervous tremor through the 
crowd, which at this moment formed but one body. 

Upon the white background of the sky, Andrey saw a 
waving line of black glistening helmets surmounted by a cluster 
of lances, through which he discerned four vague outlines 
resembling human heads and shoulders. These outlines, and 
the steel-tipped lances swaying above the black waving line of 
helmets, seemed to form one body with the living mass below, 
advancing slowly, slowly as a tortoise. 

As they came nearer, he could see the car, the horses, the 
driver, and the driver’s face, but the faces of the four human 
figures towering above them all he could not see. At last he 
discerned why. 

They are turned backwards, each sitting on a high stool, 
the shoulders tied to it by large strips of black leather. They 
are dressed all in something grey, formless, clumsy, so that they 


all looked alike, as if they were wrapped in blankets. Nearer 


they come, formless as before, but he sees the colour of their 
hair, and recognises the dark-brown of Vasily, the lighter hair 
of Boris, and the flaxen of Botcharov. But he still cannot 
make out that the fourth figure on Boris’s right hand is Zina. 
With the short abundant flaxen curls on her uncovered head, 
which the wind played with, she looked like a young boy. 

“They have cut her hair to hang her more easily,” Andrey 
guessed at last. 

A bird—whether a dove, or a raven, or a buzzard, he could 





252 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


not see—flew over the heads of the condemned. It must have 
seen the faces of these four towering figures, and also the four 
black angular things that stood awaiting them not far off upon 
the black platform, and, as if stricken with panic, it flew away as 
swiftly as its strong wings could carry it. How he envied this 
creature, which could fly far, far from this sinful bloodstained 
earth! Even had he wings, he could not move from the spot 
now. Horror has its attractive power, like beauty. Shivering 
as in a fit of fever, his heart beating violently, his eyes did not 
so much as wink, lest he should lose the one instant when 
he might exchange glances with them. Yet he dreaded that 
moment, foreseeing that something awful might come out of it. 
He would have run away, if his feet had not been nailed to the 
ground, as his eyes were to the four towering figures. 

Boris made a twist on his seat, straining with his strong 
shoulders the straps which held him, and turned his face 
towards the -crowd on his left. Andrey, who saw him in 
profile, guessed by the movement of his lips that he was shout- 
ing something to the people below. He had tried to do this — 
several times on the way. But the roll of the drums became 
so deafening, that not a word could be heard. He gave up 
the attempt, throwing himself angrily back. Another few 
turns of the wheels, and Andrey saw all of them in full face. 

They sat close to each other, resting their feet upon the 
same board. Boris looked angry and defiant,—a valiant 
champion, overcome by numbers, chained, but unsubdued to 
the last. Vasily was speaking to Botcharov, who was last in 
the line, saying evidently something cheering, for a faint smile 
appeared upon the young man’s lips. On that commanding 
eminence Vasily’s features lost their roughness. Calm, self- 
possessed, grave, he appeared to Andrey a different man from 
the one he had known before. 

But upon a platform of any kind it is the woman that 
reigns over the crowd. ‘The eyes of the multitude were fixed 
upon that one face next to Boris. Beautiful as woman ever 
was, her head encircled by her hair as by a halo, her face 
bashfully blushing under the gaze of so many eyes, she cast a 
kind pitying look over the people below, who at this moment 
had but one feeling for her. She was looking for somebody 
there. In her farewell letter, which Andrey had not yet 
received at this time, she had said that all of them would be 
glad if one of their friends would take his stand in some con- 














a ee 


AN EDIFYING SIGHT. 253 


spicuous place on the way to the scaffold, so that they might 
see each other. She expected that Andrey would come, and 
was seeking him in the crowd. She discovered him at once. 
There he stood, directly under her feet, with head raised towards 
her. Their eyes met. | 

Neither then nor afterwards could Andrey understand how 
it came to pass, but in that moment everything was changed 
in him, as if in that kind pitying look there was some spell. 
Anxieties and fears, nay, even indignation, regrets, revenge— 
all were forgotten, submerged by something thrilling, vehement, 
undescribable. It was more than enthusiasm, more than readi- 
ness to bear everything. It was a positive thirst for martyrdom 
—a feeling he always deprecated in others, and never suspected 
himself to possess— which burst forth within him now. To be 
there, among them, upon that black car of infamy, his shoulders 
fastened to the wood like those of that woman, bending her 
radiant brow above the crowd,—this was not punishment, this 
was not horror, it was the fulfilment of an ardent desire, of a 
dream of supreme happiness! Forgetting the place, the crowd, 
the dangers, everything,—conscious only of an irresistible im- 
pulse,—he made a step forward, stretching both his hands 
towards her. He did not cry aloud words which would have 
ruined him irrevocably, only because his voice forsook him ; or 
perhaps his words were lost in the noise of the drums, as his 
movement was in the rush of the crowd which closed in on 
both sides, swelling the enormous following of the advancing 
procession. 

When he could see anything through the mist that suffused 
his eyes, there was some kind of disorder or scuffle in the 
middle of the road. A man had been seized by two police- 


_men, who were dragging him to the nearest station, holding 


him under the armpits, as the deacons hold the bishop when 
leading him into the church. To his considerable surprise, 
Andrey recognised in the arrested man the same peasant who 
had been talking all the stuff about the yellow cat and the 
exorcism. ‘The man, impressed in his own way by the sight of 
the condemned, had knelt as they passed, and bowed to the 
ground, reciting some kind of prayer on their behalf. 

The car, and the crowd which followed it, had already 
passed along. Andrey had no desire to follow them. What 
for? He had got his message from them. What more could 
he wish for? He stood watching as the car and the crowd 


_. 


—_—— 


254 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 





disappeared behind a corner, leaving the street almost empty. 
Then he went away quietly. He crossed the suburb, which was 
a desert, and passed the eastern gates, hardly noticing that he 
was walking for some time upon an unpaved road bordered 
by open fields and orchards. He was absorbed in his thoughts, 
but no longer stunned, for he could now think connectedly. 
His meditations were exceedingly sad, it is true, but in quite 
another way and for other reasons than those of the morning. 

Thin bushes stretched before him. A little farther on was 
a leafless grove, through which the grey sky gleamed. The 
form of the branches and the stems showed them to be oak 
trees. Andrey turned his head to look at the town, and 
recognised that this was the same grove where, six months ago, 
they had their picnic with the sisters Dudorov. His walk had 
now an object; he wished to see the place again, as one may 
wish to pay a visit to the cemetery where one’s family lies 
buried. 

He found the place. Here was the tree under which 
Vulitch sang. Here the spot where the fire was lit, Vasily 
stirring the porridge, Botcharov and the two Dudorovys sitting 
round. How full of hope, of energy, of devotion, they were 
then—and what was the upshot of it all! 

The place was barren and dreary under the dull leaden 
sky. The very trees, lifting to heaven their black knotty 
branches like contorted hands, seemed aching and in pain. 
But a ray of sunlight broke through the cloud, and t_.e whole 
scene was transfigured. Fresh buds, not seen before, appeared 
all over the branches, harbingers of new life to come. The 
tender new grass under the trees and over the vast expanse of 
fields below, the white town yonder—all smiled cheerfully in 
return to the smile of heaven. 

How out of place and out of harmony this joyfulness seemed 
now to Andrey. But on a sudden his heart ached and beat 
violently, and something contracted his throat convulsively. It 
flashed upon him, not as a supposition, but as a firm, unshak- 
able conviction, that just now all must be over there—on the 
black platform. He sank down upon a mound of earth, 
covering his eyes. But immediately he rose again. Such 
griefs as this are sacred trust. ‘They must be stored up in the 
depth of heart and memory, and kept there whole,—not to be 
idly wasted by outpouring. 

He went rapidly back to the town, almost running, not to 








- 


=a AN EDIFYING SIGHT. 255 


be alone. Face to tace with men indifferent, perhaps hostile, he 
would show nothing,—he was certain of that. 

The town resumed its usual aspect. The life suspended 
for a brief while hastened to flow back into its ordinary 
channels. The suburb was empty still; the crowd, ebbing 
back, had not yet reached’ it. But a little farther on he met 
its vanguard, and then more and more folk. They had had 
their fill of breathless horror and feverish shivering, and of 
that stunned amazement and sadness which follows upon such 
sights. All this was left behind. Now they talked loudly, and 
moved briskly, as soldiers disbanded after a long drill, at which 
they have been forcibly kept silent. 

The show was over, and the spectators hastened home. 
How many of the crowd were bringing back any idea or feeling 
to be remembered for life? and how many nothing more than 
a better appetite for the coming dinner ? 

At the headquarters a certain number of revolutionists had 
assembled spontaneously. But the women were conspicuous 
by their absence. Many of the men did not appear until late 
in the evening. Among those present Andrey saw George—the 
last man he would have expected to meet that day. 

The St Petersburg section had learned of the explosion in 
the Stutterer’s house, and of the subsequent discoveries made 
by the Dubravnik police, a little earlier than Andrey himself, 
for the news had been immediately telegraphed to the central 
police office, and thence secretly conveyed to them. They 
learned at the same time that Andrey’s presence in Dubravnik 
was no longer a secret, and that a number of spies, knowing 
him by sight, were on the point of being sent to hunt him 
down. Alarmed by the imminent danger to Andrey, Tania 
easily persuaded George to start immediately for Dubravnik 
with the news, so as to gain upon a letter half a day, and one 
full day at least upon the spies who were coming to chase 
him. 

But George was in no hurry to speak to Andrey of his 
errand, and Andrey did not care to ask what brought him. 
They shook hands hurriedly, George making a little room on 
the sofa where he was crouching. Andrey sat down by his 
side, and both listened. 

It was “the Uncle”’—a middle-aged gentleman, with clean 
shaven face—who engrossed the attention of his companions. 
In consideration of the post he filled in the civil service, he had 


ES ee eee 





256 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


the right of admission to the black platform, and he had 
availed himself of this privilege in order that the condemned 
should see one friendly face at least among their enemies. He > 
had witnessed the whole proceeding, and he related it now in 
an even, hollow voice, and a simple matter-of-fact way, without 
a digression, or one word of comment. 

Two men stood near the speaker. ‘The rest, six or seven in - 
number, were scattered over the room, sitting upon stools and 
sofas or in the window seats, stiffened in various. attitudes, and 
not moving or looking at each other. All listened. Nobody 
asked questions, nobody made remarks. 

When the final act drew near, Andrey felt that George was 
shaken throughout witha nervous shiver. He pressed his arm 
strongly, and drew it down to bid him keep quiet, and not 
interrupt the narration with any outburst. George mastered 
himself, and listened to the ghastly details of wanton brutality — 
to the end. But here his nerves got the better of him. He 
burst into hysterics. 

Andrey seized him by the shoulder, shaking him violently. 

“You whining woman!” he said, furiously. “It’s with 
blood, not with tears, that such things must be answered.” 

A great and terrible idea took shape in his mind in that 
moment. But he gave no utterance to it. It must be thought 
over and over again before it was spoken. For there are words 
which it is a crime to throw upon the wind, and a shame to 
retreat from when once uttered. 

George calmed himself after a while, and they joined the 
circle of friends talking together. Nothing was heard but 
vehement appeals for prompt revenge. The governor-general, 
the imperial prosecutor, the head of the gendarmes, were put 
forward as “‘ candidates ” upon whose heads the blow had to 
fall. 

Andrey alone said nothing. It would not be bad, all this, 
he thought, but is the game worth the candle? What is the 
use of these petty attempts against officials, big or little, who 
are all and each menials and dependants, with no will, no 
power of their own? ‘The odious edifice of despotism will not 
be so much as shaken. The government can always return 
ten blows for one, and the revolution will be simply transformed 
into a private contest between police and conspirators. If the 
blow is to tell, it must be aimed higher,—at the man who is the 
keystone, and the head of the system. 





3 AN EDIFYING SIGHT. 257 


He listened indifferently to the excited talk, which had lost 
all interest for him, and soon, taking George by the arm, he 
withdrew. 

They went for a long stroll, so as to be quite alone. George 
told his errand, insisting, on his side, that Andrey should start 
that very night for St Petersburg. ‘Thus he would escape the 
net spread for him. Andrey acceded to this advice. There was 
nothing to detain him in Dubravnik any longer. 

They spent the day in the city, and had a long talk 
together. George had time to recover from the nervous shock 
caused him by the “ Uncle’s” account of the execution. Now 
it was he that was the firmer of the two. 

“We need not be dispirited at defeats,” he said, with his 
usual faith. “Our victory depends upon our ir capacity for bear- 
ing defeat after defeat.” 

‘* Possibly,” said Andrey, ‘but in that case we must aim 
our blows, so that our very defeats should make an epoch.” 

““What do you mean ?” George asked, his quick eye catch- 
ing something peculiar in Andrey’s face. 

“You will know in time,” Andrey said evasively, unwilling 
to be more explicit. 


| 





CHAPTER V 


THE FAREWELL LETTER. 


. HEN they returned, they found Vatajko waiting for 
\ \ them anxiously. David was there, more wearied — 
and downcast than Andrey had ever seen him. 

““What a pity you did not come earlier!” were the first 
words of Vatajko to the newcomers. ‘Uncle has been here 
to. see you, Andrey.” 

‘What for ?” 

“There is a letter for you from Zina, about which he 
wanted to ‘speak.” 

“A letter from Zina!” Andrey exclaimed. ‘‘ Where is it? 
Hasn’t he left it in your hands?” 

“No. He could not get hold of it without a word from 
you. That is why he came. The gaoler was at the tavern as 
usual with the letter. But you did not come.” 

This was true; Andrey had thought there was nothing 
more to come for. 

“Then I will go and see the man myself at once,” he said, 
anxious to make amends. 

“Tt is too late,” Vatajko replied. ‘“ You have barely time 
to catch your train.” 

**Confound the train! [ll see the man to-morrow, if I can’t 
to-night.” 

They prevailed upon him, however, to meet the man in 
some popular tea-room. ‘This was safer than paying him a 
visit at. his house. 

Early next morning Vatajko went to the gaoler’s house, in 
order to arrange a meeting at mid-day. He returned without 
having been able to arrange anything. The man was on duty 
in the prison, and would not be back till late at night. 

“He hasn’t taken Zina’s letter with him to the prison, I 
presume,” Andrey said. ‘Could not his wife give it you?” 

“TI asked her,” Vatajko answered. ‘“ But she said that he 


THE FAREWELL LETTER. 259 


keeps these letters secreted in some hiding-place, which she 
herself does not know.” 

This was vexatious in the extreme. It meant the delay of 
another day at least,—a delay longer than Andrey could possibly 
afford, if he wanted to avoid the spies. . 

“Then I’ll go and see him in the prison,” he said, amidst 
a general stupefaction. 

“In the prison! Are you in your senses?” Vatajko ex- 
claimed. 

“Why not,” said Andrey. ‘To-day the politicals are 
allowed their weekly visits. I will go to Varia’s lodgings, and 
will accompany her in her regular visit to the sisters Dudorov.” 

“But you will be recognised and arrested on the spot!” 
George exclaimed. 

“No fear of that,” said Andrey. ‘Who on earth will ever 
dream of looking for me in the reception-room of a prison? 
It only seems to be dangerous. Besides,” he added in a 
calm, absent tone, ‘‘I should have gone all the same even if it 
was really-dangerous. I must get that letter before I start.” 

The thing had to be done. That message from his dead 
friends had for him more than a sentimental interest. He had 
an unshaken belief that it contained something that would give 
him some clue to the issue from his present intolerable per- 
plexity, and he was resolved to see it at all costs. 

David was silent. He was troubled in mind and hesitating, 
for he seemed as anxious as Andrey to see Zina’s letter. But 
he joined with George in dissuading Andrey from wantonly 
risking himself within the lion’s jaws. He offered to remain 
a couple of days more in Dubravnik and take the letter with 
him to St Petersburg. 

But Andrey could not be brought to listen to reason. 
During these last days he had lived in an atmosphere saturated 
with death and all sorts of horrors, so that his perception of 
danger was quite benumbed. 

“There’s no need to make such a fuss!” he said im- 
patiently. ‘I will go myself, and shall be back in time to 
catch the train. We will meet there.” 

Without waiting for further objection Andrey left hurriedly 
to catch Varia at home. 

The political prisoners were allowed visitors between two 
and four in the afternoon. It was about half-past one when 
Andrey, with a bag containing food and a few books from a 





260 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


lending library in his hand, approached the grim square build- 
ing, connected with so many of his recollections. Varia 
Voinova walked by his side. She knew how simple were the 
proceedings in connection with the visiting of prisoners, and she 
acceded readily enough to Andrey’s request. It seemed to 
her such good fun. But as she came within sight of that awful 
building, a few hundred paces from the massive iron gate, by 
which stood an armed sentinel, she was seized with a sudden 
fear and remorse. Once within, would her companion ever be 
free to come out again? 

*‘ Listen, Kojukhov,” she said. ‘‘ Give me the bag, and go 
home. I fear that your joke will end badly.” 

Andrey raised his sunken head, as one suddenly awakened. 

‘*What must be, must be ”—he quoted absently a fatalistic 
Russian saying. 

In fact he was not thinking at all of what might await him, 
and paid no attention to the young woman’s warning. ‘The 
idea preying upon his mind as he caught sight of the prison 
gate was that two days ago from that same gate his four dead 
friends had passed on their way to the scaffold. 

The sentinel unbolted and opened the wicket at their 
approach. He bolted it again noisily as soon as they had 
crossed the high threshold. Andrey was within the lion’s 


jaws. 

Upon hearing himself thus secured, he felt for a moment 
the surprise and helplessness of a man suddenly thrown into a 
dungeon. He looked and listened. A subdued hum of 
voices was heard, but all around was complete darkness. The 
scanty light penetrated only through the chinks in the two 
massive gates closing both ends of the arched passage in which 
they stood. The prison was a quadrilateral building, enclosing 
a small courtyard. The passage that led to it served also as a 
kind of waiting-room for visitors on reception days. 

When Andrey’s eyes had grown accustomed to the semi- 
obscurity, he saw a crowd of people—men, women, and here 
and there children, huddled together behind iron railings on 
both sides of the narrow passage. ‘ The majority of them were 
visitors for the common offenders. But in a corner on the 
right side of the entrance one could see a group of people— 
men and women, whose dress showed them to belong to the 
privileged” classes. ‘They were distinguished too from the 
rest of the visitors by the abundance of flowers and the parcels 








THE FAREWELL LETTER. 261 


of books that many held intheirhands. Those were the visitors 
for the “ politicals.” 

Varia made her way towards them, followed at some dis- 
tance by Andrey. The habitual surroundings and familiar 
faces had completely restored her equanimity. She forgot to 
think of the dangers of a place where she was herself quite at 
home. All the visitors were her acquaintances and friends. 
They shook hands, asking questions and exchanging news. A 
pale-faced dark lady holding by the hand a boy of ten detained 
Varia a little longer than the rest. She had a big nosegay in 
her basket. 

“What beautiful flowers you have brought,” Varia said. 
“Give me some for my prisoners. I have not brought them 
any to-day.” } 

The lady handed her all the flowers, which Varia untied, 
taking unceremoniously half of them. Of this she kept one 
part for herself and gave the other to a tall grey-haired gentle- 
man standing a few paces off. 

“Take these for your daughter,” she said. ‘There is 
nothing prisoners like so much as flowers.” 

Then she went to an aged peasant woman, in a plain village 
dress, her head wrapped in a brown chintz kerchief. 

‘Has your son any money to his account?” she asked. 

“Yes, little mother, he has two roubles left,” the woman 
answered. 

“That is too little for a month,” Varia said. ‘TI will bring 
you another couple of roubles for him next Sunday.” 

She took from her pocket a worn, rather thick, note-book, 
in which she wrote down something. In her quality of revolu- 
tionary sister of charity, she had the control of the prison fund, 
and took care that all the prisoners, rich and poor, should have 
their share of money, books, linen, and the like. 

““Who is that lady with the child?” Andrey asked, when 
she came to him again. 

“The wife of Palizin, the judge,” Varia answered. “He 
is to be transported to the Siberian mines. She will follow 
him. It will be hard upon the poor soul, for she is leaving the 
boy with her relations.” 

Varia told him about the other visitors without waiting to 
be asked. ‘The old gentleman was a merchant of the town, 
and came to take leave of his youngest daughter, who was to 
follow her two elder sisters to Eastern Siberia. The peasant 


262 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


woman was the mother of a promising self-taught young 
scholar. Others were men and women of all classes and 
stations whom the community of grief had united. 

The clattering of the chains and bolts at the inner gate 
interrupted them. The gate was flung open, lighting up the 
arched passage for a brief space. The opening was filled up 
again by the huge prison van that rolled in. It was a batch 
of common offenders, who were leaving the prison. 

The inner gate was closed again, and carefully locked. The 
outer was then opened. The van moved on and was gone, 
and the arched passage was plunged once again into gloom. 

They waited in silence. Nowand then at the door leading 
to the offices a guard appeared, shouting the names of those 
who were to be visited. 

“‘ Have we long to wait?” Andrey asked his guide. 

“No,” she said. ‘‘The forgers have already had their 
interview ; that of the thieves and burglars will be soon over. 
We follow next on the list,” she added, with a smile. 

The outer wicket slammed once again, admitting an old 
man in the worn-out greatcoat of an official. He looked round 
disconcertedly, blinking his small eyes, and trying to recover his 
breath. Apparently he had hurried, so as to be in time. As he 
took off his hat to wipe, with a pocket handkerchief, his fore- 
head and bald skull, his face appeared to Andrey not alto- 
gether unknown. 

“Ah, here is Mikael Evgrafich at last!” Varia broke off. 

A stout police inspector appeared at the office door, at the 
bottom of the recess behind the railing. 

*‘ Visitors for the politicals !” he shouted. 

Varia ascended the few stone steps leading to the office 
door, and was by his side directly. 

“Mikael Evegrafich,” she addressed the officer, whom she 
knew familiarly, “ here is the brother of the Dudorovs, whom I 
have brought with me. He came from Moscow on purpose, 
and goes back to-morrow. He had no time to get a permit, 
but I am sure i 

The officer threw a scrutinising glance at the pretended 
brother, who came forward and bowed politely. 

“Write his name down in the _ ffice,” he said, turning to 
Varia. ‘But don’t let this occur again. You know the 
rules.” 

The old bald-headed gentleman had also approached in 











THE FAREWELL LETTER. : 263 


the meantime. On hearing the name of Dudorov he gave a 
start, and bestowed a look of the utmost surprise upon the 
young man who was said to be the brother of the two prisoners. 
He uttered a wondering “’hm!” but apparently made up his 
mind to keep his own counsel. 

“T beg your pardon, sir,” he said, calmly enough, to the 
officer, ‘‘ but I also came on purpose to see the Dudorovs. I 
am Timothy Dudoroyv, their uncle.” 

“‘T can’t grant you an interview,” the officer said peremp- 
torily. ‘‘ There are already two persons to visit the prisoners.” 

* But I have a special permit, and they are my nieces. 
Since you admit strangers,” the old man said, throwing a sus 
picious glance at Andrey. 

“Impossible. Come some other day,” the official said, 
without listening to him. 

He gave in a loud voice some orders to his underlings, and 
turned back into the office. But the old man would not hold 
his peace. He was quite exasperated at the want of respect 
shown to him. 

“Tt is unheard of! I will lodge a complaint with the 
director himself!” he exclaimed, angrily, moving towards the 
office. 

Varia’s blood ran cold. She foresaw a catastrophe. Rush- 
ing to the troublesome old man, she caught him by the hand. 

“What are you doing!” she whispered, drawing him aside. 
** He is Masha’s sweetheart. ‘They love each other to distrac- 
tion. He wants to marry her as soon as her fate is made 
known. He comes to-day on purpose to settle the matter with 
her. You will ruin their prospects of happiness if you make a 
scandal. Just keep quiet. I will arrange everything for you.” 

“Oh, I understand!” the old man said, complacently. 
** You ought to have told me that at once.” 

Varia slipped into the office to fulfil her promise, and the 
old man went to shake hands with his future relative. 

“T know your secret, young man, and wish you joy and 
happiness,” he began, but checked himself suddenly, staring at 
the young man. 

Andrey lifted his eyes at him, wondering what he meant, 
and stared too. They recognised each other. The old man 
was Andrey’s fellow-traveller on the journey to St Petersburg. 

*T think we have met somewhere,” the old man lisped out, 
in a faltering voice. 


264 3 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


His anger and his complacency were all gone on a sudden. 
He remembered what he had said in that railway carriage, and 
was seized with a fright that paralysed all his faculties. 

*‘ Perhaps,” Andrey said discreetly, “but I cannot exactly 
remember on what occasion.” 

The old gentleman did not choose to refresh his memory. 
But he felt at once very friendly towards the young man, whom 
he had no reason any longer to fear. 

‘**T will not stand in your way as to seeing Masha,” he said. 





“Vou will carry her my greetings, if I cannot manage to see her. 


We old people must give a chance to the young.” 

He went on in his garrulous fashion talking about the girls, 
praising both of them, Masha in particular, and expatiating on 
his great wonder when he learned that they were entangled in 
these conspiracies. 

“Tt is an epidemic, sir, a real epidemic,” he repeated. 

Varia found them talking friendly to each other. She had 
arranged everything to their mutual satisfaction. The two 
sisters would be summoned separately. The old man would 
see his younger niece. She and Andrey would see the elder 
afterwards. 

In a few minutes old Dudorov was summoned. He was 
in the first batch of visitors. A quarter of an hour later he 
returned, apparently very much satisfied with himself. On 
passing them he whispered to Andrey, confidentially: 

“T dropped a word about your coming! Masha will be 
glad to hear of it beforehand.” 

Other batches of visitors to the politicals were admitted,— 
fathers, mothers, wives. They went in file by file, hurrying 
and expectant, carrying their parcels and flowers. When they 
returned, there were no flowers in their hands, and no light on 
their faces. The short dive into the gloomy pit seemed to 
have bereft them of both. Some of them were quite shaken, 
though they did their best to keep a brave countenance. 
They passed one by one, like so many ghosts, into the twilight 
of the arched vestibule. To Andrey the spectacle was depress- 
ing in the extreme. Not very sensitive as a rule, his nerves, 
shaken by the events of the last days, had acquired a peculiar 
subtlety. He read the silent tragedies hidden behind these 
faces as if they were written on them, and it seemed to him 
that in all his life he had not seen so much suffering as in the 
short two hours he spent in the prison vestibule. 





THE FAREWELL LETTER. 265 


Their turn came at last. The name of Maria Dudorov 
was shouted among those of the last batch of the prisoners 
who were to be visited. 

“Come!” Varia said to him. } 

She led him rapidly through dark corridors, where they 
rubbed elbows with several people going in the opposite 
direction, whose faces they could not see. They were ushered 
into a very lofty bright place, more like a corridor than a 
room. All along, on both sides of the entrance, ran what 
looked like two enormous cupboards, in which the glass panels 
were replaced by thick wire grating. A little examination 
showed that these partitions were double. Behind each of 
them, three or four yards away, was another quite similar, and a 
_ guard walked up and down in the space between. At the end 
of the room sat two other guards, looking very sleepy. They 
had to watch the visitors. 

“ But where are the prisoners?” Andrey asked, seeing none. 

“They will be brought in directly. We had to be secured 
first,” Varia answered. 

The chief guard rose and said that all who had brought 
anything for the prisoners must give it to the guard on duty. 

Andrey took the parcel from Varia and went to the wicket, 
behind which stood the guard who was on duty. It was their 
friend, the very man whom Andrey wanted so much to see. 
He allowed the other visitors to get through their business first, 
and then pushed through the wicket his own rather large parcel. 

*‘For the sisters Dudorov,” he said aloud. 

Whilst the guard approached, throwing on the bearer a 
lazy, indifferent glance, Andrey whispered : 

“IT must have the letter to-day. ‘Tell me where you keep it.” 

The man seemed to have heard nothing. He opened the 
parcel slowly, examining, one by one, everything it contained. 

“In the back room, under the old box,” he said, without 
raising his eyes from the roast fowl he was cutting in four to 
see that no letter was hidden in its flesh. 

Varia was already talking with Masha Dudoroy, who was 
leaning against the grating on the other side of the passage, 
her face looking like a pale patch under her thick iron veil. 

“Then it was you that are my sweetheart!” she exclaimed, 
merrily, when he came to her. “I was quite at a loss to guess 
what it meant when Katia brought me the message from uncle. 
How did you like the old fellow?” 


266 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“T have already met him once,” Andrey answered. ‘“ But 
how are you? How is your sister?” 

The girl said they were both well, and expecting to be sent 
to Siberia without much delay. She even knew to which mine 
they would be sent. 

Andrey had several friends there, to whom he asked her to 
carry his greetings. 

‘They spoke in a hushed voice, not to be heard outside, but 
they were in no way restrained in their talking, as the guard, 
their friend, pretended not to hear. 

The girl promised to fulfil faithfully Andrey’s errand. In 
her turn she sent him, from behind the gratings, her warm wish 
that he might be free for long, and be able to do more than 
they had done. 

“‘T will do my best!” Andrey answered, earnestly. 

The unusual conversation caught the ear of Masha’s neigh- 
bour, the prisoner who was having his interview on her left. 
They exchanged a few words in a whisper. 

‘My neighbour, Palizin, wants to make your acquaintance, 
Andrey,” the girl said. 

The short energetic man, of about forty, with a square 
chin and a square head, was really the well-known conspirator, 
formerly a justice, Palizin. Andrey might have guessed it 
earlier from the fact of his wife standing with her boy against 
his compartment. 

It was a strange mode of making acquaintance, yet Andrey 
was glad of the opportunity. He said how sorry he was that 
they could not meet on this side of the grating. 

‘“Never mind. Who knows that we shall not meet there 
some day!” the plucky man said, with a bold toss of his head. 
“The prison walls are high, but a hawk soars higher. At all 
events, that chap of mine will soon step into my shoes,” he 
said, pointing to his boy, who blushed. 

Here their conversation was unexpectedly interrupted by a 
loud shouting of ‘Andrey! Andrey!” which filled all the room. 

The cry awakened the two somnolent guards. All the visitors 
turned their heads in the direction of the voice, Andrey with 
wonder and curiosity, Varia with undisguised terror. 

One of the prisoners opposite was beckoning with his hand 
energetically. Andrey crossed the room and approached the 
compartment. 

“Mitia! Is it possible? you here!” 








THE FAREWELL LETTER. : 267 


He had recognised a fellow-student and old friend of his,— 
the last person whom he expected to see in this place. 

The guard intervened. 

“Go to your place, sir,” he said, rudely. “It is forbidden 
to visitors to speak to prisoners with whom no interview has 
been granted.” 

“Very well,” Andrey said, politely. But he showed no 
hurry to withdraw. 

“The third year! On suspicion!” the young man poured 
forth in the meantime. ‘‘Consumptive! Surgeon says I have 
only one-eighth of my lungs to breathe with!” he shouted at 
the top of his voice, triumphantly, as if he was quite delighted 
at communicating this extraordinary achievement. 

A violent cough interrupted him. At the same time the 
signal for the closing of the interview was given, and the 
prisoners were led out. The visitors followed in their turn, 
Andrey and Varia keeping in the rear. 

In the vestibule there was an unusual movement. 

‘‘What is the matter?” Varia asked, somewhat alarmed. 

“A new political prisoner is being brought in!” Palizina 
told her. 

In fact, two gendarmes were seen in the passage, one of 
them opening the gate, another keeping back the public. 

Meeting the common guards, or being seen by them, was 
of no particular danger to Andrey, because none of them, 
except the one who was his friend, knew his face. With the 
gendarmes it was very different ; he had the best reason in the 
world to keep out of their way as much as he could. But 
he was under the illusion that now the visit was over he was 
out of any danger, and he was so upset by what he had just 
seen, that he forgot common precaution in the anxiety to 
know who the new victim might be,—perhaps an acquaintance, 
perhaps a friend. 

He pushed himself forward and stood on the footpath, his 
back to the railing, a few paces from the gate, waiting for the 
van tocome. He did not wait in vain. When the van rolled 
in, the light falling full on its door, he saw through the small 
grated window the gaunt, ghastly pale face of the Stutterer! 
After having been kept for three days in a hospital, he was now 
considered sufficiently recovered from his wounds to be removed 
to the prison. 

In the pain and absorption of that discovery, Andrey did 


268 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


not notice that he was himself an object of rather attentive 
contemplation on the part of a red-whiskered gendarme, who 
was walking behind the van. Having looked at him several 
times, the man now squeezed himself between the railing and 
the van, anxious to share his startling surmises with somebody 
who was in the front. 

In a minute he returned with another gendarme, who seemed 
his superior. But Andrey was nowhere to be seen. Without 
waiting for Varia, he had slipped out of the gate, and hastened 
alone to the guard’s lodgings, where the precious letter was 
deposited. He was.too much depressed to wish for anybody’s 
company. 

The sentinel, who had been staring at the van like all the 
rest, had not seen him pass.. When the sergeant came to inquire 
if any one had left the vestibule, the man was ready to swear 
that nobody had gone out for the last five minutes. 





j 
i. 
“a 
PT 
: 





CHAPTER VI. 


THE GREAT RESOLUTION. 


tionist, George spent two very unpleasant hours, whilst 

waiting for the return of his friend. He questioned 
Vatajko how matters stood with Andrey, in the secret hope that 
he would give him some encouragement. But the young man’s 
answers, on the contrary, were such as to render George more 
and more uneasy. 

“We were wrong in allowing him to go,” George said, with 
tardy regret. | 

“Never mind,” Vatajko observed calmly. ‘ Andrey has 
been in worse predicaments than this.” 

The young man had already a little practical training, and 
was accustomed to regard all these dangers with a good deal of 
equanimity. | 

“What you say may be true,” George replied. ‘‘ But a 
man who has escaped great dangers may be lost in a small 
one.” 

_ Vatajko admitted it willingly, quoting, for better illustra- 
tion, several striking examples from his own and his friends’ 
experience. 

He was not a very entertaining companion for a man uneasy 
in mind. 

George felt himself hardly dealt with, and very unhappy. 
He was exceedingly dissatisfied at not having interfered, and 
began to reproach and torment himself bitterly for his lack of 
firmness—as was his wont on all similar occasions. He was 
prone to exaggerate his influence over Andrey, and now he 
persuaded himself that had he insisted energetically he would 
have induced him to leave the matter in David’s hands, instead 
of wantonly risking himself in the wolf’s den. 

It was a happy moment for George when Andrey came back 
punctually at the time he had fixed. 


ITTLE accustomed to the hard lot of a practical revolu- 


27° THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


The St Petersburg train started at half-past nine. There 
was no time to lose. 

“We can go to the station at once,” Andrey said. ‘‘ The 
luggage is packed, I suppose?” 

It was not. Absorbed in his brooding on what had been, 
and ought to have been, George had forgotten the immediate 
present. Fortunately, their preparations were not long in 
making. They had just sufficient luggage to have the appear- 
ance of ordinary travellers. They were soon ready, and on 
their way to the station. As Andrey was in a precarious posi- 
tion, precautions were taken. Vatajko went before them in a 
cab alone, carrying with him all their luggage—the two small 
trunks and a travelling bag. He had to take their tickets, 
secure places in the carriage, and then meet them in the street. 
They were to enter the station a few minutes before the train 
started, and go straight to the carriage, so that they might be 
exposed to view as little as possible. 

Andrey and George followed Vatajko, at ten minutes’ 
interval, alighting at a crossway not far from the station. 
Vatajko rejoined them much more quickly than they expected. 
He had taken no tickets,—for he deemed it absolutely impos- 
sible for Andrey to show himself at the station. The tracking 
had begun earlier than they expected—thanks to Andrey’s 
recognition by the red-whiskered gendarme. A trap had been 
_ laid for-him at the station. It was crowded with police. ‘Two 
fellows in plain clothes—evidently spies who knew him—stood 
on either side of the entrance, looking impudently into the 
face of every one who came in. They would point him out 
to the police as soon as he entered, and he would be arrested 
on the spot. 

Vatajko had therefore deposited the luggage in the cloak- 
room, and came to propose another plan for getting out of the 
town. They must drive to one of the nearest stations, and 
book there. David would go down to warn them if the coast 
was not clear. 

** But why have you not taken a ticket for George ?” Andrey 
asked. ‘‘ He runs no risk, I presume. ‘There’s no reason why 
he should stop here.” 

This was quite true. Vatajko had not thought of that. The 
time was not gone, however, and George could easily catch the 
train if he chose. 

This George peremptorily refused to do. 








THE GREAT RESOLUTION. 271 


“We resolved to make the journey together,” he said, 
“and I do not see why I could not book at the next station as 
well as you.” 

He was prepared to stand his ground firmly, and certainly 
would have, by way of compensation for his yielding on a former 
occasion. But Andrey did not show fight. 

‘“* Very well. Let us go together then,” he said. 

He was absent-minded and depressed, paying but little 
attention to what was going on around him. His visit to the 
prison and the letter had upset him, adding to the chaos which 
the recent reverses had brought upon him. He was still in the 
crisis of hesitation and uncertainty, unable to see his way 
clearly. 

For some time the three walked along together, Vatajko 
explaining where they could get horses, and how they must 
manage to save time. 

“If you don’t object to making the journey on foot, that 
will be perhaps quicker and safer. ‘The first station is about 
twenty miles off. 

They approved of the idea—George especially. 

“‘ But how about our dress?” he asked. ‘‘ Gentlemen don’t 
tramp, and to get peasants’ dresses we must wait until to. 
morrow.” 

“Perhaps Ican get dresses for both of you to-night,” 
Vatajko said. “I can try the brothers Shigaev, two carpenter 
friends of mine.” 

The idea was very good, as it would permit them to leave 
early in the morning. Vatajko at once started on his errand. 

He returned about midnight to his lodgings, where Andrey 
and George were spending the night, with a big bundle. He 
had arranged everything to mutual satisfaction. 

The two brothers sent Andrey and his friend their geectiais 
and God-speed. The bundle contained two complete peasan} 
dresses, to which the brothers had added two linen sacks, with 
an assortment of various articles, such as travelling carpenters 
might be expected to carry. Finally, or rather above all, they 
had lent Andrey and George their own passports, a very effec- 
tive protection against the police, in case their identity was 
suspected. 

Andrey begged Vatajko to thank the brothers cordially for 
this great kindness, promising to send their passports back the 
day after they reached St Petersburg. 





272 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“You need not be in such a hurry,” Vatajko said. ‘One 
passport, at least that of Philip, the elder brother, you can keep 
as longas you need. It suits you very well, and Philip does 
not mind getting into a bit of-a scrape for your sake. He 
seems to have taken a fancy to you.” 

“How? Without ever having seen me? ‘That sounds 
very romantic,” Andrey said with a smile. 

“No, he has seen you close, and spoken to you once. He 
was one of our fifty. Do you remember at one of your meet- 
ings a dark, young workman, who said that he did not want a 
revolver, but would come to the fight, his axe at his belt, which 
was much handier, and would do just as well. ‘That was Philip 
Shigaev.” 

“Yes, I remember him well. I had only forgotten his 
name,” Andrey said. ‘ But we need not go on talking,” he 
added, abruptly. “It is better for us to go to sleep at once. 
We have to rise early to-morrow.” 

He was afraid that if it went on, the conversation would 
turn upon the painful topics which he wished above all to 
avoid. What he wanted now was some rest, moral and physical, 
and he knew that there will be none for him once embarked 
upon these sad recollections. 

** Until to-morrow!” he said to himself, mentally, closing 
his eyes with the firm resolution to sleep. 

He had a vague presentiment that to-morrow everything 
would be clear and settled. This gave him a certain calm, and 
helped him to drive away his besetting thoughts. 

He slept like a log. But on the morrow, whilst George 
was still asleep, Andrey was up wide awake. With the first 
gleams of consciousness, a strong conviction seized him that 
he had to perform some very urgent business, left unfinished 
the evening before. He remembered in a moment what he 
was thinking of before going to bed, the visit to the prison, the 
whole of what had happened yesterday, and all his sad ex- 
periences of the last few days. 

What a mass of victims! Zina dead, Boris, Vasily, Bot- 
charov dead also. The two Dudorovs and so many, many 
others buried alive, and as good as dead. He himself 
would be arrested one of these days, for he could not expect 
always to slip through the enemy’s fingers, as he had until 
now. He too would be put to death, and who would be the 
better for all these hecatombs ? 








THE GREAT RESOLUTION. ; 273 


The vision of the crowd returning from the place of execu- 
tion passed before him and sent a chill through his brain. 
But he shook it off. 

No, that was not the upshot of his experiences and medita- » 
tions! These people had not died in vain. They were the 
skirmishers who had perished in starting from its lair the great 
beast. For the survivors to grapple with it now! 

The idea which, since the Uncle’s tale, had been hovering 
over him at a distance, like a hawk making its circles above its 
prey, now swooped upon him, demanding immediate and final 
solution. 

Half dressed and barefooted, he took to pacing up and 
down the room noiselessly, so as not to awaken George. 

His idea was clearly formulated in his own mind. The 
struggle with the menial tools of the autocracy had had its day. 
An attempt against the Tzar himself must be made, and he was 
the man to make it. 

** And Tania!” an inward voice of distress cried to him. 

His heart sank, but echoed nothing in response. It received 
and returned the blow without bleeding, as if it had been a 
piece of india-rubber. In the face of the unmeasurable, un- 
speakable sufferings of their country from end to end, what 
were their own individual sufferings? It was a meanness even 
to weigh these against the others. Tania was his comrade, his 
fellow-worker in the struggle, as well as his wife. She would 
approve his resolution and bear courageously her share of 
sorrow, in an act done for the sake of their country’s liberation. 

It was not that which held him in suspense; if the thing 
was to be done, personal feelings would not for a moment 
stand in the way. The question which agitated him was, 
whether the thing itself was to be done or not. 

Andrey knew that whatever his own conclusions were, they 
would not be final; the decision rested with the whole of the 
directing body of the party, who would certainly choose their 
course after mature deliberation. But there are cases in which 
the offer to do a thing is half the deed itself, and there are 
deeds in which the half seems as great as the whole. The 
gravity of the issue before him was such as would impose 
caution, even upon the rashest and most unscrupulous. And 
Andrey was neither unscrupulous nor rash. 

Nothing was easier for him in his present state of mind 
than to answer the question in the affirmative. The failure of 

S 


ie ene 


274 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


all his plans, the spirit of revenge, the deep and sweeping 
emotions of the last few days, all this was subdued for a time, 
but not destroyed. It lay there thundering in the depths of 
his heart, ready to burst forth at any moment on the surface. 
But he did not want to give way to these passionate impulses. 
He wanted to consider the matter on its own merits, without 
any reference to himself. 

The moral justice and righteousness of the act he meditated 
was for him beyond all question. But would it be well timed? 
Would it be useful to the cause of their country’s freedom? 
He discussed these questions again and again, laboriously, and 
as dispassionately as he could, with inner tremors, as those of © 
aman walking upon an oscillating bridge, and fearing to make 
a false step. 

The answers to which he could not help coming were— 
Yes, yes, and yes! The attempt would be a timely one, and 
useful. It would rest with the St Petersburg people to test his 
reasons and his arguments. As for himself, he resolved that 
he would make his offer. 

Then came the personal question,—Why should it devolve 
on him, out of all the fellow-conspirators, to do that deed of 
retribution and self-sacrifice ? 

This question he was no longer able to discuss dispas- 
sionately, as if it were a geometrical problem. 

That something which thundered and seethed in the depths 
of his soul now rushed upwards, not waiting for his decision. 
It flooded his whole being with fire. It made short work of 
hesitations, attachments, pity, as the irrupting lava burns to 
ashes fences, houses, smiling groves—everything in its path. 
He stopped short in the middle of the room. His face and 
eyes glowed,—gloomy, menacing, yet exalted,—as he threw 
both hands upwards with the same gesture he had made when 
he saw Zina on the day of her execution. 

The decision was made, and was irrevocable. Now it could 
be talked about. 

He awakened George, and told him on what errand he was 
now going to St Petersburg. George received the news with 
no particular enthusiasm. It seemed to sadden him rather 
than elate—on Tania’s account more than on Andrey’s, though 
he abstained from treading on such delicate ground. But he 
approved in the abstract of Andrey’s arguments, and this was all 
that Andrey wanted from him for the moment. 


THE GREAT RESOLUTION. ’ 275 


They aroused Vatajko, who was sleeping in another room, 
and began to make their preparations for the journey. It was 
thought better not to leave the town earlier than eight o’clock, » 
when the peasants would be going home after their marketing. 

In the travelling sacks sent them by the brothers Shigaey, 
they found a provision of bread and salt, a measure, with some 
other light tools, and two good short-handled axes. It was 
Philip who sent them these favourite arms of his. Andrey and 
George put them in their belts. They completed their disguise, 
and, in case of need, might be advantageously used in self- 
defence. The only part of their costume not in harmony with 
their assumed calling was their boots. Vatajko had a pair of 
long shooting boots, which fitted George. As to Andrey, he 
had to go in his gentleman’s boots, which did not quite agree 
with his attire. But this was too small a detail to be of any 
moment. ‘They took leave of their host, and walked briskly out 
in the fresh morning, their sacks fastened to their shoulders. 

On approaching the outer gates of the town, they saw two 
policemen standing at the entrance, in a lazy, expectant attitude. 
This was an uncommon sight. Since,the abolition of the spirit 
monopoly, the living pillars of law and order had been removed 
from the gates. ‘Two wooden pillars, painted in the official pie- 
bald colour, were alone left to represent authority. The presence 
of the two policemen had in all probability a special meaning. 

As they approached nearer, this supposition became a 
certainty. A peasant woman, with an empty basket, in which she 
was now carrying her baby, passed through the gate unheeded. 
Two elderly men—a peasant and a citizen-—were scanned from 
head to foot by the two policemen, but were also allowed to go 
their way unmolested, because the one was above fifty, and the 
other must have passed threescore. With a young artisan, 
who followed these, there was nearly a scuffle. Some ques- 
tion had been asked him, which he had evidently answered 
with impertinence, for one of the two policemen—a short- 
legged fellow, with a bulldog face—flew at him with raised 
fists. The young artisan parried the blow, and ran away, 
launching derisive taunts against the police, who are far from 
popular among our workmen. 

It was not difficult for our travellers to guess on what busi- 
ness the two sentinels were standing there. 

“We must get ready,” George exclaimed, kindling with 
warlike spirit. 


276 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“By no means,” Andrey replied. ‘There will be always 
time for that. Leave all to me. We shall get through all 
right.” 

But he regretted inwardly that he had accepted George’s 
company. ‘There was really no necessity to wantonly expose 
him to dangers, which might turn out serious after all. 

They were now close to the gate. The eyes of the two 
fellows were riveted upon them—upon Andrey in particular— 
with a mixed expression of impudence and perplexity. 

‘Stop !” the short-legged policeman shouted, barring their 
way. 

They stopped. 

“Who are you, and where are you going?” he asked. 

“Carpenters, going home,” was Andrey’s quiet reply. 

“Name? address? province? time of stay in town?” the 
policeman asked successively. 

Andrey replied without hesitation. He had studied his 
passport well. 

“ Why didn’t you take the train? Everybody goes by the 
railway now.” 

“ But the roads are free, I suppose,” Andrey retorted sharply, 
thinking it good to resent this interference. 

“‘ Ah, well! you’d better keep a civil tongue in your head. 
Have you a passport ?” 

‘* Of course I have.” 

‘Show me what is in your sack.” 

““Why? There is nothing of yours there,” Andrey said, in 
a tone of annoyance. “ You are making us lose time to no 
purpose.” 

“Do what you are told, and look sharp,” the policeman 
said, severely. 

Andrey shrugged his shoulders, and opened the sack with a. 
half-mocking, half-vexed air. The policeman looked at its 
contents, and seemed himself to feel his stupidity in wasting 
thus his own time and that of other people. 

“ And you?” he addressed George, in a much quieter tone. 

‘‘Semen Shigaev. Going home also.” 

‘“‘ Brothers ?” the policeman asked. 

“Yes, half-brothers,” George explained, remembering how 
little they resembled each other. 

A batch of other people were approaching the gate in the 
meantime, to be examined in their turn. 





THE GREAT RESOLUTION. : 277 


“Go on,” the policeman said, waving his hand helplessly. 

Andrey shifted his sack on his shoulder, and was about to 
pass on, considering the incident well over, But here the 
other policeman, a lanky fellow, with a shrewd, pock-marked 
face, who had hitherto taken no part in the proceedings, leaned 
toward his choleric companion, who was evidently the chief, 
and whispered him a few words, pointing to Andrey’s objec- 
tionable boots. 

“Ha, stop!” the other shouted, stepping in front of 
Andrey. “ You must go to the police station.” 

George stopped of his own accord. He did not doubt that 
everything was lost. 

“Why to the police station?” Andrey said. “I am not 
drunk and my passport is all right.” 

“They will see that there! Our business is to stop you.” 

* But why?” 

** That is our business.” 

The affair began to assume a very ugly aspect. To fight 
these two blockheads was easy, but it was difficult to escape on 
foot in broad daylight. 

Whilst making a rapid survey of the place and diceskiuy how 
to manage if the worst came to the worst, Andrey protested 
loudly against such treatment of a man with a passport, boast- 
ing of the many good employments he had had in his trade, 
and the number of masters who would give him the best 
references. 

“Semen,” he said to George, in the height of his virtuous 
indignation, “ go and ask Mr Arkipov’s manager to come here 
at once. It is not far,” he explained to the policemen, and he 
named one of the neighbouring big streets. 

His idea was to get George away. Alone he would feel 
much better, and would manage just as well. 

The policemen seemed to offer no objection to George’s 
going back to town ; they had no instructions for such a case. 
But George did not move. He understood Andrey’s inten- 
tion, which was very natural and correct from a “ business” 
point of view. But he could not bring himself to go away, 
leaving him in such an evil plight. 

“JT would rather not,” he said; “ Efim Gavrilich is so 
particular. He would not like to be disturbed for such a 
trifle.” 

It was impossible for Andrey to insist. 


278 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


*‘ Well, let us go to the police station at once then. Weare 
in a hurry.” 

He wanted to leave the place before trying anything, for the 
gate was already crowded with passers-by, who stopped to hear 
the dispute. 

‘Wait for the patrol,” the policeman curtly replied. ‘‘ We 
cannot leave our posts for you.” 

** All right !” 

They moved off a few paces, and sat on the ground, light- 
ing their pipes to pass the time. 

Finding nothing attractive in the spectacle, the crowd 
gradually dispersed. Even the policemen left off paying them 
much attention. But every minute the patrol might come. 
There was no time to lose. 

Between two puffs of his pipe, George whispered,— 

“Slip the blackguard a sovereign !” 

Andrey nodded. He too was thinking of trying bribery 
first. Choosing a moment when there was nobody by, he 
said,— 

* Listen, friend. How much will you take to let us go our 
way in peace?” | 

** How much will you give?” was the eager reply. 

*‘T will give you this,” Andrey said, impressively, showing a 
few coppers. 

Offering, in these conditions, a big bribe would at once 
excite suspicions, and probably ruin everything. 

“No; it is too little. Weare two. Give us a rouble.” 

“ Bah! I haven’t so many roubles to throw away. ‘Take a 
grivnik. I would not give so much if I was not in a hurry.” 

He had not, however, the necessary calmness to bargain as 
hard as he ought to. He increased his offer in an off-hand 
way, and they were free men again. 

At the first village they hired a peasant’s one-horse cart, and 


about dinner time arrived at the station. David was already 


there, hanging about the gates, to inform them that it was all 
right, no spy being visible anywhere. But this time Andrey 
insisted on their parting company. They entered the booking- 
office separately, and went to different carriages, agreeing to 
behave at all intermediate stations as if they were strangers. 
They would rejoin one another when they reached their journey’s 
end. 


CHAPTER VII. 


AT HOME. 


incessant mental torture could make her, when David 

came to tell her that Andrey had arrived safe and 
sound in St Petersburg, and would be with her in a couple of 
hours. Andrey had asked him to bring her that message, 
because he himself could not come straight to her on account 
of the disguise which he had to change. 

David was surprised that Tania showed no pleasure on 
hearing this. The look she cast upon him was wondering, 
inquisitive, as if he was the bearer of a disagreeable piece of 
news that she tried her utmost to disbelieve. 

** Who told you that?” she asked, incredulously. 

“Nobody. We have travelled together all the way from 
Dubravnik and arrived together. I assure you that it was your 
Andrey in real flesh and blood, and not his ghost,” David said, 
smiling. 

It was only after this circumstantial statement that Tania 
awakened from a kind of torpor and gave vent to her exulta- 
tion. 

The fact was that she was persuaded Andrey had perished. 
This was merely an inference wanting positive confirmation. 
But she thought she had already made up her mind to it, and” 
tried to keep off delusive hopes, so as not to break down alto- 
gether when the news of his arrest should arrive. 

It is well known that the Tzar’s subjects in general cannot 
enjoy much of the pleasure of free correspondence. As for the 
conspirators, they either abstain altogether from private letters, 
or at any rate restrict it as much as possible. 

When she sent Andrey to Dubravnik, Tania could not hope 
to receive letters from him. But she exacted the promise that 
every evening he would post to her, in lieu of a letter, a copy 
of some newspaper, with her address written in his own hand. 


“Pee was alone in her room, as miserable as three days’ 





280 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


This would not tell her much about him, but she would know 
at least that he was not arrested. 

Andrey kept his promise scrupulously. Every morning at 
eleven Tania regularly received her copy of the Dubravntk 
Leaflet, the most stubbornly reactionary, and therefore the 
safest, paper Andrey could find. That paper probably gave 
greater joy to her than to all its few subscribers put together. 
The_reception of this paper was the chief event of her day. 
She was agitated when the time for the postman’s call drew 
near, and she was miserable if the precious parcel came in the 
afternoon instead of the morning. 

But during the last four days she had received from Andrey 
nothing at all. The fatal accident at the Stutterer’s house 
which ruined all their plans and prospects, the execution of 
their four friends, and all that followed, had so -upset Andrey’s 
mind, and had so completely engrossed his time, that he dis- 
continued this mute correspondence. As he was in daily and 
hourly expectation of starting for St Petersburg, he did not 
attribute any importance to this trifling omission. ‘Those who 
are in actual danger, especially if accustomed to it, have much 
difficulty in realising the hourly anxieties of those far away and 
in comparative security. Besides, Andrey knew that George 
intended writing to Tania, and he would certainly tell her that 
they were both safe. 

George had, in fact, written. But his letter did not add 
much to Tania’s peace of mind. It was written in hot haste, 
and George had no time to use either invisible ink or cipher. 
He wanted to say and explain so much,—the urgent nature of 
the affair which detained Andrey, their present hopes, the 
prospect of speedy return ; and he had to do all this in the 
conventional roundabout language of allusions and allegories. 
The result was an epistle which seemed clear as daylight to 
himself, but was a maze of riddles to Tania, because she could 
not possibly know which phrase was to be taken in a direct and 
which in a figurative sense. After puzzling for hours over the 
enigmatical letter, she did not know whether something had 
happened which Andrey was attempting to set right before 
starting, or whether something had happened to Andrey him- 
self, which his friends had fair hope of setting right,—a hope as 
to which she was free to hold her own opinion. 

Andrey had written not a word himself, and his newspaper 
was wanting. She expected it with anxiety in the evening, that 


ee ee eta ee 
‘= ee . a k 
4 i : 


AT HOME. : 281 


she might know which of the two interpretations of George’s 
letter was the true one. Nothing came in the evening, nor the 
next morning, nor in the two days that followed. In the mean- 
time the newspapers entered upon their hunt after sensational 
news from Dubravnik. Andrey became the reporter’s favourite 
topic. His arrest was said to have taken place in this house 
and in that, in the street, and at the railway station. The brief 
description of the persons arrested often coincided to a large 
extent with that of Andrey. Fancy had been allowed free 
play, in order to supply dramatic details as to the manner of 
the arrest and the prisoner’s conduct. One paper announced, 
as from authentic sources, that the prisoner had already con- 
fessed his identity ; another, that he had been identified by 
overwhelming evidence ; a third, that he was already being sent 
under strong escort to St Petersburg. 

The flood of arrests showed the fury of the chase after him. 
Andrey could not have multiplied himself so as to be arrested 
in different places at the same time. But was it possible that 
he could be free and not give her a sign of his existence? 
Every new telegram seemed to her more ill-omened than the 
former ones, and seemed of necessity true, though all the others 
were false. ‘The reading of the newspapers was real torture to 
her. Yet she read them with avidity, all she could lay her 
hands upon. The papers were scattered all over her room, 
which resembled the office of a journalist. 

Three days of this anxiety told upon her as much as a 
serious illness. Her face was paler and thinner, her eyes 
looked feverish. At nights her fitful sleep was interrupted by 
frightful nightmares, inspired by her daily reading and thinking. 

“It’s almost a miracle that he’s slipped out of that hell,” 
she said to David, when he had told her Andrey’s latest 
adventures. 

“Yes, they made it very hot for him,” David replied. 
“You must make it your special mission to keep him from 
mixing in similar affairs for six months at least. He has spent 
all his chances for a long time to come. Above all, don’t 
permit him to leave St Petersburg on any account.” 

“Pll try my best,” said Tania, smiling. ‘ But I fear there’ll 
be little safety for him here now.” 

“It’s the safest place anyhow,” David said. 

“By the way,” she asked anxiously, ‘“ where have you left 
them? Not at the railway station, I suppose ?” 


282 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


David explained that they separated after they had got 
through that dangerous place. He saw Andrey and George 
climb on a tramcar that would take them straight to head- 
quarters. 

‘“* Headquarters!” Tania exclaimed in a piteous tone. 
“They'll detain him talking there, I’m sure.” 

“No, they won’t. George will remain there to tell them’ 
everything. Andrey said he would not stop a minute more 
than he could help.” 

“Did he?” Tania said, brightening up. 

For that promise she forgave him in an instant all the 
anxieties he had caused her by discontinuing his daily messages. © 

“It was very good of you to come and forewarn me,” she 
said to David. 

Within herself the phrase had a different sound; it was 
very good of him to have asked David to do this! 

David left, as the time for Andrey to come was within a 
measurable distance. On taking his leave he asked her to give 
Andrey some message. She had a vague recollection of having 
promised to give it. Certainly, she had nodded her head in 
sign of assent ; but when David was gone, she forgot everything 
about him or his message, as she rushed behind the curtain of 
the window, from which the whole length of the street could be 
seen. 

The idea that Tania might be uneasy about him dawned on 
Andrey’s mind for the first time when the train was already 
running through the last few stations before St Petersburg. 
But he did not suspect for a moment that her fears could be of 
a serious nature. In requesting David, who had to go that 
way, to drop in at his place, he had simply in view the keeping 
Tania at home if she thought of leaving the house. 

But as soon as he took a cab to the well-remembered street, 
the fever of expectation seized him, and grew upon him as he 
drew nearer and nearer. They passed the heart of the city 
rapidly ; the wheels rolled over the soft, even wood of the long 
bridge. How gorgeous the river looked in that beautiful 
spring noontide! A black steamer, swift and shapely as a 
ling, was running down the stream and plunged beneath the 
bridge, its high black chimney breaking suddenly in two a 
couple of yards before it must have clashed against it, and 
then adjusting itself again with a jerk, as if by its own 
impulse. A large wooden barge was moving in the same 


AT HOME. 2 283 


direction, a tall handsome lad in a red shirt, open at the neck, 
propelling it with a long pole, whilst his companion at the 
helm leisurely hummed a song. 

The wheels began to hammer sonorously again upon the 
projecting flint stones of the roadway. It was not far now. 
Here was the semicircular Cronversky. Every house, every 
shop, every tree, seemed to greet him like an old acquaintance 
in this quiet, peaceful place, where he had spent the happiest 
months of his life. The fresh smiling pictures of those days 
rushed upon him, driving away the grim and horrible recollec- 
tions of the hell from which he had emerged. He wanted to 
believe, and he actually did believe at that moment, that his 
return to the old place, where Tania waited for him, would be 
a return to the old happiness, and to the quiet homely work in 
common, which made so much of that happiness. When he 
saw her at last at the window, motionless, her smile and eyes 
only giving evidence that she also had seen him; when he 
rushed in and clasped her in his arms, his plans and projects, the 
Tzar, the police, the conspiracies, all were forgotten, everything 
vanished in the sublime happiness of loving and being loved. 

** Dearest!” she whispered, ‘‘I thought I should never see 
you again !” 

*“You were wrong to think that,” he said, smiling. “I 
told you I would return safe and sound, and here I am.” 

Yes, here he was, her beloved, her hero, the most valiant 
of the valiant, returned from overwhelming perils that he had 
encountered for the sake of their common cause. She could 
hardly believe she had him with her again for a time whose 
limit she refused to see. 

He was sitting in an armchair, and she upon his knees. 

“And how have you got on here without me?” Andrey 
asked. ‘You look thin and pale, my child. Have you been 
well?” 

“Not quite; but never mind. What does that matter 
now?” 

She spoke lightly of her anxieties, and told him, laughing, 
the story of George’s subtle epistle, which allowed such latitude 
of explanation. 

But Andrey could easily infer from what she said, that for 
a time she had believed him lost, and he guessed the rest. 

“Forgive me, my own, for my negligence!” he exclaimed. 
“Only now do I see how bad it was of me.” 


284 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


‘“‘Never mind!” she interrupted. ‘That might happen to 
anybody. You might have had to go out of town for a few 
days, or to hide somewhere, or you might have had no time at 
all to think of it. I was foolish to make so much fuss about 
a trifle like that. Next time I’ll be more patient. .. .” 

But her stoicism broke down at the thought that she might 
have again to pass through the ordeal of these sleepless nights, 
these horrible dreams, and these endless hours of waiting. 

““No!” she exclaimed in another tone, clinging to him. 
“We'll not separate any more. Why should we? I can be 
with you and be helpful to you in so many ways. You don’t 
think me a coward, do you?” 

Putting both her hands on his shoulders, she drew herself 
playfully back, so that he might look her full in the face. 

“No, I don’t think you a coward,” Andrey answered, 
kissing her face. 

“It isn’t danger that I fear,” she proceeded. ‘‘Have I 
ever thought of that when you were here with me? But the 
uncertainty. ... . I can never tell you how I have suffered since 
you left. I lived only in waiting for your messages. I’ve worn out 
my eyes looking for them. But when they came it was no 
consolation, for I said to myself that you might have been 
arrested an hour after you had posted them. And the days 
and the nights when no message came! What did I not think! 
What did I not imagine about you! Ah, it’s too bad of me to 
speak of it. I know you'll not remain quiet for long. But 
you must promise me now that whatever your next affair is, 
even if it’s worse than that of Dubravnik, I shall go with you, 
and we shall share everything. Will you?” 

She concluded with a charming mixture of affection and 
petulant self-confidence all her own, as if defying him to refuse 
such an offer. 

But Andrey answered nothing, looking with blank dismay at 
her charming unsuspicious young face. She had herself, by her 
question, dispelled the incense of joy which had for a time 
clouded his mind. He remembered the last morning in 
Dubravnik, at Vatajko’s house, and the great resolution which 
he came to. . . . He was a doomed man. Human happiness 
or companionship was not for him. The affair in which he 
was about to embark allowed of no companionship, and had 
no future but the grave. 

To tell her now was the only share that he could give her in 








AT HOME. 285 


it. But he wassilent. Trained as he was in the frightful experi- 
ences which steel the nerves of a conspirator—now that he 
had to lift the sacrificial knife over the breast of that beloved 
victim, he quailed, hesitated, and trembled. 

“Andrey, dear! what’s the matter? Why do you look like 
that?” Tania exclaimed. ‘‘ You refuse? You are afraid that 
I shall unman you by my constant fears about you, if I’m by 
your side? Don’t imagine that. I couldn’t love you if you 
were not . . . what you are! When I heard of your dangers 
in that town, and the way you faced them, I trembled, but I 
was proud and happy as well. I thought it was all so like my 
Andrey! Believe me, I will never ask you to abstain from 
anything right and good.” 

“ My darling, I know it,” Andrey said, kissing her hands. 

“Then why this hesitation and this troubled face ? Why 
don’t you promise me at once? Perhaps you don’t love me 
enough to have me always by your side.” 

‘**T not love you enough !” 

She smiled, and then she laughed outright. 

‘Well, it’s some notion of yours, which you can keep secret 
if you like. When you have to start again on an expedition— 
we shall see how you'll get rid of me! Let us not speak of it 
any more. Now tell me all about Dubravnik. Omit nothing. 
I can hear everything you have seen.’ 

She had persuaded herself that Andrey’s sudden sadness 
was probably caused through her having revived the Dubravnik 
recollections. She knew that they were harrowing, but she 
wanted to show him that she was able to bear the worst. 

Andrey was glad to have an immediate explanation thus 
staved off. There was no need to do it at once. He could 
very well give himself a respite, postponing the disclosure for a 
few days—until to-morrow at all events. Nobody could grudge 
him that last draught of unalloyed happiness. 

He told her the story of the Dubravnik affair, though he 
gave her no opportunity to show the strength of her nerves. 
Whilst keeping in store for her that tremendous blow, he was 
most careful not to pain her by too crude a picture of what 
had actually happened. 

He scarcely touched on the execution, saying that she 
must have read enough of that in the newspapers, and dwelling 
chiefly upon his personal adventures, which were only amusing 
now that all had ended well. 





286 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


Tania was engrossed by his story, but her ear was not 
deceived by its easy tone. When he finished, congratulating 
himself upon having cheered her, she leaned towards him, 
looking into his eyes. 

“You are hiding from me,” she said, ‘something very sad, 
that is weighing upon you, Andrey, Tell me what it is. I 
want to have my share in all you have to bear. You will feel 
better yourself, I’m sure, when you have spoken it right out.” 

He was not sure that he would feel better, but certainly he 
could not feel worse than he did now behind the mask he had 
intended to present to her. 

For a moment he was silent, collecting his strength. 

“Tania!” he exclaimed. ‘‘You have guessed aright. I 
have resolved to attack the Tzar.” 

At first she did not understand. 

“Have you not done it always?” she asked. 

She took Andrey’s words as referring to his opinion as to 
political action against the autocracy, which was being thrashed 
out just then in the revolutionary camp. 

He corrected her in four words, clear and precise, that left 
no room for doubt, hope, or question. 

This time the blow struck home, for her face changed 
colour. Her mouth opened convulsively, ungracefully, as if 
she had been suddenly thrown from a height and had her 
breath knocked out of her. 

“Oh, my God!” she gasped painfully, pressing her hands 
to her heart, and then dropping them helplessly on her lap. 

Her dry glittering eyes moved from one ‘point to another 
with a vacant, wondering expression. ‘‘ This is what I get for 
my waiting!” that bewildered look and sunken figure seemed 
to say. 

Andrey rose from his seat and took her hand. She yielded 
it mechanically, without looking at him. 

“Tania,” he said, bending over her. ‘ Will you listen to 
me? I want to persuade you. . . . I want to tell you, how 
and why I came to this decision. . . .” 

His voice awakened her. She turned quickly towards him. 
Her fingers clasped his hand nervously. 

“Yes, yes! speak out. I’m calm. I’m ready to listen. I 
want to know your reasons,” she poured out the words hastily. 

A hope crossed her mind that since it had to be reasoned 
out, it was not yet decided upon. 





AT HOME. 287 


He told her how and why he had come to his resolution. 
This time he did not spare her the shocking details of the 
horrible execution, and no less horrible trial. He wanted to . 
rouse in her the same indignation that he had felt on hearing 
and seeing all this himself. 

But he failed signally. Tania listened cold, unmoved. 
Things which a moment ago would have pierced her heart, 
now rebounded from it as arrows from a steel breastplate. 

“But this is all over, and can in no way be helped,” her 
eyes and rigid face seemed to say. ‘ What has this to do with 
that resolve?” 

She was not a listener, but a fighter, struggling to protect 
that which was dear to her as the apple of her eye. He was 
fighting also—for the integrity of his soul, which was dearer to 
him than life and happiness. 

Life is a struggle. ‘The closest ties are no shield against 
this. 

“And then I thought,” Andrey proceeded, as if following 
Tania’s inward replies, “that these horrors are but a faint 
image of what is being done everywhere, not with half-dozens, 
but with thousands and millions, and that there will be neither 
respite of, nor decrease in these sufferings unless we bring 
discredit, shame, and ruin upon the power that causes them.” 

He spoke much and forcibly in the same strain, warmed 
by the fire of deep conviction. He hoped to persuade her and 
stir her heart to a passion like his own. He succeeded only in 
slightly impressing her reason. 

“Yes, but why of all men must you be called to do this ?” 
she asked, in the same tone of obstinate wonder. 

“Why should it not be I, Tania, dear? I came to that 
determination, and I must carry it out. If to-morrow some- 
body else comes forward to tell us that he had arrived at the 
same decision as I, I will gladly give him precedence. I 
have no ambition to die an illustrious death rather than to 
perish obscurely as most of us do. But such offers are not 
made every day, and not everybody would be accepted for an 
affair like this. They’ll certainly entrust it to me.” 

Tania clasped her bowed head with her hands. 

“They will, they will, they will!” hammered upon her 
brain. “All will be over if he only speaks.” 

The short happiness she had known within these very 
walls, before he had started to that terrible town, rose in her 


a . oa lo ae =p Pee? fe 2 2 ee Le ee Lhe 
T 


288 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


memory like a vision of paradise. She could not renounce it 
voluntarily just when it was again within her reach. The 
whole of her young nature rebelled against so great a sacrifice. 
She must dissuade him from this horrible thing at any price. 
It was her last chance to save him and herself. 

She made a supreme effort to put her thoughts in order 
before making this new attempt. It was difficult, because her 
mind was so confused. But he would be good to her; he 
‘would not take advantage of her; he would try to look at the 
matter from her point of view. She was sure that at bottom 
she must be right. 

She took him by the hand and looked into his eyes 
pleadingly. 

“Andrey, think it over again,” she said. ‘‘ Are there not 
enough of murders and bloodshed! What shall we get by it, 
but more horrors? Gallows, gallows again! no end of them. 
I have thought much about it of late, and it has made me sick 
and rent my very heart, that the best and noblest should be 
slaughtered in this way. Why should you not instead of this 
thing, try other means? Why should we not do our work 
among the people, and let these horrid politics take care of 
themselves? I don’t put it well, but you understand what I 
Mean. 205." 

“Ves, I understand,” Andrey said, and then he asked, 
‘Can you tell me when you thought of all this? Was it 
perhaps on Wednesday last? ” 

“‘T can’t tell exactly. But why do you ask that?” 

“‘ Mere curiosity,” Andrey began quietly. “It was on that 
day, looking on the indifferent crowd returning from the execu- 
tion that I asked myself the very same questions, and that 
many a bitter thought passed through my mind. Our mission 
is a hard one, but we must fulfil it to the end. What would the 
country have gained, had we abstained from returning blow 
for blow and gone on preaching and teaching in out-of-the-way 
corners, as Lena proposes? ‘They would not have hanged us, 
true. But what’s the good of that? They would have arrested 
and sent us to Siberia, and let us rot in prisons all the same. 
We should not have one more day of life and work useful to 
the people than we have now. ‘They will not give us freedom, 
as a reward for good behaviour. We must fight for it with 
what arms we can get. If we have to suffer—so much the 
better! Our sufferings will be a new weapon for us. Let 








AT HOME. 289 


them hang us, let them shoot us, let them kill us in their 
underground cells! The more fiercely we are dealt with, the 
greater will be our following. I wish I could make them tear 
my body to pieces, or burn me alive on a slow fire in the 
market place,” he concluded in a low fierce whisper, his face 
burning as he looked at-her with fixed glowing eyes. 

Instead of quenching she had fanned to flame the devouring 
fire smouldering beneath the ashes. 

She felt with horror that the ground was slipping from 
under her feet. She did not know what to say, what to do. 
Yet it was too terrible to yield. 

“Wait a moment ... Andrey, dear!” she said, taking 
him by the arm as if he were going off there and then. ‘“ Only 
amoment. I have something more to say . . . very convinc- 
ing. But I forget what it is. . . . All this is so terrible, that 
my head swims. . . . You must let me think... .” 

She stood quite close to him, her eyes cast down, her head 
bent. | 

*T’ll wait as long as you like, . . .” Andrey said, kissing 
the dear pale forehead. “ Let us drop the matter altogether 
for to-day... .” 

She shook her head energetically. No, she must and 
would find what she wanted to say at once. 

“The peasants who believe in the Tzar 
not it! That part of society which now is neutral 
not that again !” 

Suddenly she trembled in all her limbs and her very lips 
grew pale; she had discovered the great argument which was 
her bulwark, and she saw how weak it was, and yet how 
terrible. 

“Oh, what will become of me when they kill you!” she 
gasped, covering her eyes with her hand and throwing back 
her head. 

“My poor, darling child!” Andrey exclaimed, clasping 
her in his arms. ‘I know how heavy a cross yours is. It’s 
so much harder to bear for those who have to remain than for 
those who have to perish. But, believe me, my own lot is not 
an easy one. Life is dear to me,—dearer than it ever was, 
since you loved me. It’s hard to throw it away, to part with 
you, and die when I could be so happy! .. . I would have 
given anything to spare us that. But it cannot be. The blow 
must be struck, I cannot withdraw because I love you. I 

T 





No, that’s 
No, 





290 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


should feel myself a coward, a liar, a traitor to my vows, to my 
cause, to my country if I did! It would be better to drown 
myself in the first dirty pool, than go on living with such a 
burden at my heart! How could I bear it? What would our 
love become then? ... Forgive me, my darling, the pain 
that I cause you, not for my sake, but for the sake of our 
country. Think only, what is death, what are our sufferings, if 
we can bring nearer by one day the end of the horrors that 
are on all sides. . . .” 

Andrey spoke in a low voice, that sank sometimes to a 
faint whisper. He was exhausted by the unnatural struggle, 
and could fight no longer. His was a plea for peace, for 
respite. But these simple words of his melted Tania’s heart 
and wrought in her a change when he least expected it. 

However exalted, romantic, or youthful is a woman’s love, 
if only she loves truly, there is always in it something of the 
pitying and protecting motherly element. It was that chord 
which Andrey had touched and stirred in Tania by that faint 
whisper of his. She was not convinced: at least she could 
not tell for certain whether she was or not, for she forgot all 
about his arguments. She surrendered. She pitied him so 
intensely, that she could not make his lot harder by her 
resistance. 

Her face relented. ‘The deep eyes once more shone upon 
him kindly and lovingly, as she caressed with trembling hand 
his hair and his face that lay upon her knees. She spoke to 
him in her soft soothing way, whilst inwardly she was pouring 
out upon him words of love and. endearment even more tender 
than those she spoke aloud. 

The future was all darkness to her; beyond the act upon 
which Andrey’s mind was set she could see no more than 
beyond the grave. But she saw her way quite clearly in the 
present. She was his wife, his sister, his companion, and she 
resolved to pluck up all her courage to stand by him in this 
terrible trial, to support him, and to take upon her young 
shoulders as much of his burden as she could. 

She was much calmer now. There was no trace of tears 
in her large sad eyes. But she was weeping tears of blood 
inwardly—not over her own fate now, for she had forgotten 
everything about herself to think only of him. 








CHAPTER VIII. 


TWO GENERATIONS. 


and complex conspiracy, of which he was to be the 
striking hand, had been set in motion, and was 
already making progress in its underground way. 

One evening, about a fortnight after his return to St Peters- 
burg, Andrey crossed the Tuchkov Bridge, directing his steps 
towards the Palace Square. He was still living at his old 
rooms, but by this time some signs of these being no longer 
safe had appeared, so that a speedy removal to other quarters 
was contemplated. This was the reason why Andrey made 
such a long circuit, for he could have greatly shortened his 
journey by taking the Gagarin ferry. He was going to see 
old Repin, and was naturally most anxious not to draw after 
him any spies who might be loitering about his house. Repin 
had sent word to him that he wanted to see him on important 
business. ‘There was nothing unusual in such a summons, so 
that Andrey did not trouble himself to guess the purport of the 
invitation. Probably it was sornething referring to ‘ business,” 
general or private. 

Repin was prepared for the visit, and was waiting in his 
study, having given orders that he was not to be disturbed by 
any one. The old man’s face was pensive and preoccupied, as 
he sat before the table, lit by two candles in carved brass 
candlesticks, and looked absently over some of his briefs. He 
intended to make Andrey an offer, which he took very much 
to heart, and he had serious reason to think he must not lose 
time in urging it. 

Whenever anything exceptionally grave is about to be done 
by the conspirators, even those who are not engaged in the 
actual work can occasionally guess that something is brewing. 
A vague atmosphere of danger and excitement spreads all 
around. The conspirators are seen to be more careful in 


\ NDREY made his offer. It was accepted. The vast 


292 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


observing precautions against the police. They exhort more 
urgently their sympathisers and occasional accomplices to be 
on their guard against domiciliary visits. ‘They remove com- 
promising papers from houses where at another time these are 
kept almost openly. Some of the members of the brotherhood, 
more nervous than others, show signs of mental preoccupation, 
when they ought to look cheerful and calm. Thus, even when 
the secret of what is to be done is kept most rigorously, those 
who know how to read the signs of the times can often foresee 
something. 7 

Repin was one of that huge and diversified circle of friendly 
people which in Russia surrounds each and all of the con- 
spirators. _He had watched these ominous signs with keen 
and painful attention, and he was almost sure that a new out- 
break was at hand. He had not for a long time seen any of 
the active conspirators, but a few days before he had met 
Tania at a small party at the house of a friend. They could 
not exchange more than a few words in private, but she looked 
so distraught and weary that his worst suspicions were con- 
firmed. ‘The anxieties of underground life must have become 
exceptionally severe, for he had never before seen her in such 
a state. He was powerless to tear her away altogether, but 
he might perhaps succeed in keeping both her and Andrey 
out of the turmoil for a time. He was resolved to try. 

After his daughter, the person for whom he cared most was 
his extraordinary son-in-law. Had the choice of a husband for 
Tania rested with him, he would certainly have sought for her 
a companion not in the ranks of conspirators. But young 
people who take their own way in politics, are wont to ask for 
no guidance from their elders in other affairs of life. Besides, 
since Tania herself had joined the conspirators, the profession 
of her husband was a matter of small moment. So—the 
peculiar feeling of the best among the Liberals towards the 
revolutionists helping him—Repin at last came to accept and 
sincerely love this son-in-law of his. Had Andrey enrolled 
himself in some less desperate section of the revolutionary 
body, the old man would have been quite satisfied with him. 
They were on very good terms, Andrey visiting Repin as often 
as necessary caution and the great stress of his occupation 
permitted. Repin knew much of what concerned him, for 
Andrey was as frank and free with him as a conspirator can 
ever be with a trusted friend. Tania was indeed the more 


TWO GENERATIONS. - 293 


reserved of the two, being the younger and more open to the 
reproach of undue partiality. 

The Dubravnik expedition, and the great dangers of 
Andrey’s present position which resulted from it, were no 
secret to Repin. He considered that it was just the time for 
Andrey to get out of the way for a while. This was the 
foundation of his hope, that the plan he had in view would be 
acceptable both to him and to Tania. 

He heartily welcomed Andrey, who had not been to see 
him since his return from Dubravnik, and asked him how 
Tania was. 

Andrey answered that she was quite well. 

“T think it’s as unlikely for any of our people to fall ill as 
for a salamander to catch cold,” he added. ‘It’s so scorch- 
ingly hot in our underground region that I doubt if any 
microbes could stand it.” 

He smiled, but only with his lips; his eyes remained quite 
serious. 

“Tt must be very hot indeed for you, Andrey. I am told 
that the police have had a severe reprimand on your account, 
and are now resolved to make amends. The chief said he would 
turn the town upside down till he got you alive or dead.” 

“ Easier to say than to do,” Andrey observed calmly. 
“They have boasted in the same fashion on many other 
occasions.” 

“Still, to begin with, they’ve got wind that you’re here, 

which you probably did not expect. They may go a step 
further. Better not play with fire. Don’t you think it is high 
time for you to get out of their way, and take an airing 
abroad? It is just on that point I intended to speak with 
ot Mende Ys 
Andrey shook his head in sign of energetic denial. 
“Don’t be too hasty in refusing!” Repin exclaimed. 
“Let me have my say. .. . You will not be the worse for a 
few months’ rest. To Tania the trip would be of particular 
use. She can read and study at leisure in any line she chooses. 
You don’t deny, I presume, that knowledge is a thing which 
may be of some use for your revolution ?” 

“No, we don’t,” Andrey answered. 

“Well then, you see that my plan has some good in it. 
She will store up something for the future, you will wear out 
something of your past, and you will both return at a better 


294 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


time. The later the better, if you take my advice. If you 
have any scruples to draw on your funds, I for my part under- 
take to provide you with as much as is needful. What do you 
say to that ?” 

Andrey was thinking—not exactly of the offer, as Repin 
supposed, for there was nothing in it to think about as far as 
he was concerned. It crossed his mind that perhaps it would 
be acceptable for Tania. ... But no! it was out of the 
question for her also. She would never consent to leave the 
country just now, even for a short time. 

“You are very good indeed,” he said; “ but I am quite 
unable to accept your offer, and I doubt very much if Tania 
will. But there is something else you can do for us. May I 
ask you when you intend leaving the town for your summer 
villa ?” 

“A month hence. Perhaps a little earlier. But how can 
this affect either of you?” 

“Tt would be well,” said Andrey, “if you would go as 
early as possible, and if Tania could accompany you, and stay 
with you for three or four months.” 

This was a plan of Andrey’s. Knowing Tania to be so 
fond of her father, he had thought it would be easier for her to 
bear the parting if she was with him. She had agreed to the 
suggestion—for Andrey’s sake, because she did not see for 
herself that it would make any difference. 

Repin said he should be always glad to have Tania with 
him as long as she chose. It was something to get her out 
of the turmoil for a full four months. But this was a poor 
makeshift. He insisted upon his plan of their joint trip abroad, 
pointing out all the advantages of this over the temporary 
seclusion of the one of them who was by far the less exposed 
to danger. 

“No,” Andrey said in a decisive tone. “I cannot leave 
town on any account. It is useless to speak about it. Let us 
drop the matter.” 

Repin’s face darkened. This tone, this obstinacy, and 
moreover the desire to keep Tania out of the way, showed 
clearly that the new outbreak he had foreseen must be some- 
thing very tremendous indeed, and that Andrey himself had to 
play a conspicuous part in it. 

‘Some infernal affair of yours again?” he asked in a low 
voice. 











TWO GENERATIONS. 295 


“Something of that kind,” Andrey said, evasively. 

For a moment both were silent. | 

**T really do think you need not be in such a hurry to break \ 
your head. You have risked it enough lately, and might take 
a short rest just now,” Repin said at last. 

‘Tt can’t be helped,” Andrey answered. ‘Soldiers are not 
allowed to retire from service in time of war on account of 
their past dangers.” | 

“But they are relieved now and then, to keep up your 
simile.” | 

“Sometimes. . . . But sometimes they are not, and that 
is just the case with us now,” Andrey answered. 

This undaunted energy and courage were exactly what melted 
and conquered Repin’s heart in respect to the revolutionists in 
general, and to Andrey in particular. He was so hopelessly 
sceptical himself, and he had seen so much cowardice and 
selfishness all round, that he could not help admiring such 
singleness of purpose. Unable to share the enthusiasm for 
their cause, he reserved his fellow-feeling for themselves as 
individuals. 

But to-day irritation and disappointment at the frustration 
of his cherished plan outweighed everything else. He was 
angry with Andrey for what he considered needless obstinacy. 

“Then you have quite made up your mind on that point ?” 
he asked. 

“Ves, I have. It is useless to speak about it.” y 

“Well I know by experience how intractable you all are. 
You have the rage of self-immolation, and you will go on 
breaking your heads as long as you have breath in you. 
Fanatics are inaccessible to arguments. ‘They are incurable.” 

“ Et tu, Brute!” Andrey exclaimed, withasad smile. ‘I 
thought you knew usa little better. Fanatics you say! I doubt 
if men answering that definition exist in flesh and blood. For 
my part, I confess that I have not met with any, though my 
experience has been tolerably long and varied. No, we are 
not fanatics, if you mean anything by that word. We are a 
sensible, hard-working set of people, perfectly willing to live, I 
assure you, and quite capable of appreciating all the pleasures of 
life, provided that we can dothis without stifling our better selves.” 

“Yes,” Repin drawled; “but your better selves want so 
much that they may be at ease. And if you cannot get it, 
you grow wild as children who cry for the moon.” 


296 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


He went on in the same strain. Being angry with Andrey, 
he gave vent to his resentment, in attacking with especial bitter- 
ness the party to which Andrey belonged. He spoke of the 
futility of their efforts, of the reckless provocation which intensi- 
fied the despotism against which they contended; of their 
rendering life utterly unbearable to the whole of educated 
Russia, for whom Repin also claimed a right to existence. 

Andrey defended himself mildly and half jestingly at first. 
He was accustomed to such onslaughts from Repin. But the 
subject was too near his heart for him to remain calm, and the 
last accusation roused him. 

“Your educated, free-minded Russia,” he exclaimed, “is 
very careful, I know, about its right to existence, and about its 
comforts too. It would be much better for our common 
country if it were less so.” 

*“Would you like us all to go into the street, throwing 
bombs at every policeman who passes?” Repin said ironically. 

“What nonsense!” Andrey burst forth. ‘‘ You need not 
throw bombs; you have your own weapons to fight with. But 
do fight, if youare men! Let us fight together. We shall be 
strong enough then to fight the autocracy once for all, and to 
overthrow it. But as long as you go on crouching and whim- 
pering, you have no right to reproach us for not licking the 
hand that strikes us. If the blind fury of reprisals is extended 
to you, rend your garments and strew ashes on your heads, 
but bear it as your due. Make no complaints, undignified as 
useless, for you may make yourself hoarse with curses, re- 
proaches, entreaties, but we shall not heed you.” 

“Who speaks of reproaches ?” Repin said, waving his hand 
impatiently. ‘You may personally be right and justified in 
losing your reason under peculiar provocation. This would be 
an excuse for a common criminal before a common jury, but 
not for a political party before public opinion. If you pretend 
to serve your country, you must know how to restrain your 
passionate impulses, if nothing but defeat and calamity will be 
the result of them.” 

“ Defeat and calamity!” Andrey exclaimed. ‘“ Are you so 
sure of that? Moscow was set on fire by a penny candle. We 
have thrust in the heart of Mother Russia a much bigger fire- 
brand. Nobody can foretell the future, or be answerable for 
wuat it conceals. We do our best for the present ; we have 
shown an example of manly rebellion, which is never lost upon 





TWO GENERATIONS. 297 


an enslaved country. With your permission, I will say that 
we have brought back to Russians their self-respect, and have 
saved the honour of the Russian name, which is no longer 
synonymous with that of slave.” 

*‘ By showing that they are incapable of anything but these 
petty attempts against individuals? Is that it?” 

'“ And whose is the fault?” Andrey retorted, firing up at 
Repin’s tone. ‘‘ Not ours of course, but yours. ‘That of great 
Liberal Russia, that holds aloof from the struggle for freedom, 
whilst we, your own children, are fighting and perishing by 
thousands year after year! .. .” 

Andrey did not in the least refer to Repin, who was rather 
an exception to the rule. But for some reason or other Repin 
felt the reproach very keenly. He kept silent for some time, 
and when he spoke again, his tone and manner were changed. 

“Let us grant what you say. We, the so-called society, 
are cowards. But since you cannot change it, you must accept , 
it as any other fact of Russian actuality. The more pet 
not to break your heads uselessly, trying to batter a hole in the 
wall.” 

** No, we are not so hopeless as that,” Andrey said, relent- 
ing. ‘*We have something else to rely upon besides society, 
and we are hopeful that even society will improve in time, when 
new blood is infused into it. Has not a great philosopher said, 
‘The higher your estimation of the majority of men, the smaller 
your chances. of mistake ?’” 

Repin observed, that as far as his knowledge of great 
philosophers went, none of them had said this, and one of 
them had said the very reverse. 

“Then they ought to have said it,” Andrey answered. “If 
they have not, I would not give a brass farthing for the lot.” 

He took his hat, and was putting on his gloves. 

** Farewell, Grigory Alexandrovitch,” he said. “I can’t 
say when I shall see you again.” 

He could not say more without betraying his secret. 

They took leave of each other as heartily as they had met, 
Repin repeating to Andrey that his house and connections 
were at his service, whenever he might be in need of them. 

Andrey nodded his head to say that he knew that and was 
grateful. But his face wore a peculiar expression, which Repin 
only understood later. 


CHAPTER IX. 


ANDREY’S DREAM. 


visit to headquarters, where he was detained by news 

of a very unpleasant nature. Repin’s information 
proved correct with a vengeance. ‘The police had resolved to 
hunt him down for good, and they had discovered that he had 
taken refuge somewhere on the other side of the Neva. This 
was very vexing. ‘The friends advised him not to return home 
at all, but send word to Tania instead. It would be a great 
pity for him to fall into the hands of the police just now. 
Andrey understood it very well, but Tania could not leave the 
house alone and suddenly, he himself being absent. It would 
look suspicious. So he resolved rather to go home at once, so 
as to be able to leave early next morning. Danger seemed dis- 
tant as yet, and he would take good precautions against the spies. 

He took a cab to the Gagarin ferry, resolved to go the 
shortest way, not to keep Tania waiting. It was half-past 
eleven when he reached the embankment. The passengers 
were few at that hour. Andrey took a small ferry boat to him- 
self, and could easily ascertain that he had reached the other 
side of the wide river before any other passenger had started 
from the embankment. ; 

On the other bank he had to spend more time than he 
could have wished, so as to reach his house from the side 
where he would not be expected. 

All this caused a considerable delay, and as he was usually 
very punctual, Tania had already had time to get alarmed 
about him, and she rejoiced at his safe return as if this meant 
something real and substantial to Her. 

“What was it that father wanted to see you for?” she 
asked him. 

Andrey told her of the warning he had received from her 
father and from the friends at headquarters, which made it 
necessary for them to remove without delay. They imme- 
diately set to work to pack the little they intended to carry with 


. NDREY did not go straight home. He had to paya 


_— 
—-- 





ANDREY’S DREAM. 299 


them, and the next morning they successfully performed the 
double operation of disappearing quietly from the number of the 
living, and rising, Phoenix-like, from their ashes in another place. 

Their new home was as secure from any danger as a series 
of the subtlest precautions dictated by long practice could make 
it. But even here Andrey’s position was soon found not to be 
safe enough. ‘The police suspected nothing as to the Tzaricide 
plot. ‘The chase after him, undertaken on account of his past 
exploits, showed, however, no sign of abating. ‘This was in 
itself quite bad enough. Numbers of spies knew him by sight. 
He ran the risk of being recognised and arrested in the street, 
whenever he left the house. On the other hand, to live 
secluded in a private apartment was very imprudent, because 
it would at once excite suspicion. 

Headquarters were the best place for a man so precious to 
the conspirators as Andrey was. He was invited to settle 
down there accordingly. Here he was perfectly safe against 
the police, and could stay indoors for days and weeks un- 
noticed by any one. 

This, of course, necessitated his immediate separation from 
Tania, which might have been postponed for a time, because 
the plot was far from being as yet complete. ‘Tania was 
deeply grieved by this untimely separation; these last days 
they had to spend together were her treasure, which seemed to 
her the more precious the less of it was left. As to Andrey 
he was rather glad than otherwise. 

Tania had fulfilled to the letter the pledge she had silently 
imposed on herself on that terrible morning when he first 
disclosed to her his secret. Her courage and self-denial never 
wavered all through that hard test. But she was so young, so 
little trained to grief, and Andrey saw too clearly what that 
silent heroism cost her. The sight of this gnawed at his 
heart, and he thought that it would be better for both of them 
if they ceased to see each other. 

He, therefore, accepted readily the invitation to move to 
headquarters for the three weeks or so which still remained 
for him. ‘The stern, bracing atmosphere of the place suited 
him. All was engrossed by “business” here. In his quality 
of permanent resident, Andrey transacted much of the current 
affairs, feeling as one on the field of an unceasing battle that 
raged all round him. He was at the very centre upon which 
all information converged from every part of Russia,—from 
prison cells, from fortresses, from Siberian mines and icy 


300 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


deserts,—every mail unfolding stories of wrecked lives, mad- 
nesses, suicides, deaths in every form, and family tragedies and 
bereavements, like their own, by scores. 

This was not exactly consolation, but it reduced his own 
tragedy to its true proportions. With such sights constantly 
before his eyes, he could not make so much of his own and 
Tania’s personal sorrows as he did when they were alone with 
each other. The spirit of the place had invigorated him. 
He grew much calmer. Of Tania he thought often but not 
with such pain as before. He came to be persuaded that she 
also was feeling as he was. 

Once during Andrey’s stay at headquarters a regular 
meeting of conspirators was held there, at which both himself 
and Tania were present. The meeting discussed the ordinary 
affairs, Andrey’s special one having been entrusted to another 
body, which assembled at another place. 

Tania took part in the proceedings in an ordinary busihieiee 
like way, listening with apparent calmness and giving her vote 
when the time came for it, like all the rest. Andrey was glad 
to see her so composed, but it did not surprise him. He 
thought it quite natural, that being a conspirator herself she 
should behave in that way. 

When the meeting was over, the friends withdrawing one 
by one, Tania remained. She intended to spend the evening 
here, now that she was in. ‘The flat was a spacious one. They 
easily found a room to themselves. But the permanent tenants, 
with a few guests, were in the adjacent room, talking so loudly, 
that their voices were audible through the closed door. This 
chilled and restrained the conversation. They talked on 
common topics, connected with to-day’s ‘meeting, as if nothing 
particular was abou to happen to them. Sometimes they 
sought for a subject for conversation, so as not to sit silent, as 
if they were strangers. This ended by becoming so insupport- 
able to Tania, that after half-an-hour she rose as if she were 
suffocating, and said she must go home at once. 

Andrey did not detain her. 

“Will it be soon?” she asked, as she was on the point of 
leaving. 

“Yes,” Andrey said. 

He needed no explanation to understand about what she 
was asking. 

‘“‘When?” she asked again half audibly, casting her eyes down. 

“A week hence,” Andrey said briefly. 





ANDREY’S DREAM. 301 


If it had not been already dark in the room he would have 
seen how her face changed colour at these words. She did 
not think it was so near! But she said nothing, and gave no 
sign of what she felt, standing motionless at the door, her hat 
on her head. Then she came close to him, and seizing him 
by the hand, said in a passionate, agitated whisper, her eyes 
glowing in the darkness,— 

“‘T must see you before. . . . Not as to-day, not here, but 
there at our home. . . . Come! I cannot part with you 
8s 5? . 

He said he would come, and she went off hastily, without 
saying another word. 

Andrey remained agitated and troubled in mind. That 
short passionate whisper and those glowing eyes had in a 
moment upset him, rekindling in him the thirst for life, love, 
happiness, he thought already blunted and subdued. He 
would see her! He could not go without seeing her, now less 
than ever. But he wished that this visit was over, or better 
still, that his act of self-immolation was to take place to-morrow, 
and not a week hence. 

He was not born to be a martyr—he knew it only too well, 
and it pained him to hurt even a dumb creature. But frightful 
necessity over which he had no control compelled him to 
trample down his feelings as well as to throw away his life. 

George had also remained at headquarters after the meeting, 
intending to pass the night there. When, an hour after Tania’s 
departure, he came with a light into Andrey’s room, to ask him 
to supper, he found him lying on the sofa, his hands clasped 
behind his neck, thinking. 

In the night a strange dream visited him. 

It must have been during his first sleep, for he went to bed 
very late. He remembered how his thoughts grew lighter and 
lighter, flying upward, as if they were birds, until he could no 
longer discern them clearly. For some time he saw their thin 
black tails, wound up in scrolls, waving slightly in the depths 
of a yellow mist above his head. Then these tails disappeared 
too, and he saw nothing but a vast expanse of empty yellow 
sky, stretching over an endless sandy plain, upon which he 
walked. He remembered at once how insidious is lying down 
to the peace of mind of a man who is in trouble, and he said 
to himself, that it was very lucky for him that he could sleep 
walking. People said it could not be, but that was evidently a 
mistake. He knew well that he was sleeping, yet he walked. 


302 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


There was nothing around but grey sand, covered here 
and there with rocks and scattered boulders, which made it 
look still more desolate and wild. Dark, low clouds swept 
across the sky very rapidly, though there was no wind below. 
Not a sign of life could be discerned anywhere, but the road 
that wound along the dreary desert bore traces of many foot- 
steps. Andrey wondered how he could be alone upon a road 
that seemed to be so much used, when he felt that he was not 
alone, but was walking in a crowd of companions. They were 
strangers most of them, with blank shadow faces, like those of a 
crowd seen from a.platform. But among them he recognised at 
once Boris, Vasily, and also Botcharov. The face of the latter 
could not be seen, for he was clad in a shroud, the long sleeves 
tied behind his back, and the hood lowered. But Andrey knew 
that it was he. The other two wore ordinary dresses, and 
looked at him sternly. 

“We have met at last, old fellow,” Boris said. ‘“ You did 
not expect to see me, I suppose?” and he grinned ironically. 

“‘He knows everything,” Andrey thought in dismay. 
“No, I did not expect to see you,” he answered aloud, 
“for I thought you were dead.” 

“So we are,” said Boris. ‘ But we came to keep you 
company, and Zina sends you a letter. Do you recognise 
Botcharov? He has donned a shroud for fun. But you can 
see him all the same.” 

With these words he lifted the hood of the shroud, and 
Andrey saw under it his own frightfully distorted face. His 
blood ran cold, and his heart stopped beating, with unspeak- 
able horror. But whilst he was looking at that face, it changed 
- into that of Botcharov, who said, winking merrily with one eye, 
“T did it for fun.” 

Andrey wanted to say that it was a poor sort of fun, but he 
dared not, for he was cowed by them all, remembering that the 
dead risen from their tombs are mischievous people. He 
merely asked Boris, ‘‘ Whither are we going ?” 

“To the rivers of milk, flowing in shores of pudding, that 
lie beyond the hills yonder,” Boris answered. “If you are 
doubtful, here is the old chap to explain to you how to do it 
in strict conformity with the laws of the Empire.” 

Andrey saw in fact old Repin, whom strangely enough he had 
not noticed before, dressed in a black mantle and large brimmed 
felt hat, like the torch-bearers at funerals, and holding under his 
arm something resembling a big portfolio. He was walking 


if 





ANDREY’S DREAM. 303 


straight before them all, never turning his head, as a man who 
has to show the way. But the next moment Andrey discovered 
that it was not old Repin, but the Tzar Alexander in person. 

At the same time he remembered that he was bound to kill 
him, and without delay, though his time was not yet come, for 
this was a rare opportunity. 

** J will have the merit of the deed, and no risk whatever,” 
a voice insidiously urged him. 

But his heart fainted, and his hands would not obey him. 
He tried again and again, with desperate efforts, but he could 
not move his hand, and he suffered greatly. Then he re- 
collected that this was only a dream, and it was of no conse- 
quence whether he killed the Tzar now, for the thing would have 
to be done over again when he awoke. ‘This put his mind at 
ease, and he said to the Tzar in a whisper so as not to be heard 
by the others,— 

You are lost if they know you. Why, being alive, have 
you come here?” . 

“1?” the other replied, also under the breath. “ And 
why did you come yourself?” 

“He is right,” Andrey thought. ‘But we must slacken our 
pace, so that the others may pass us by.” 

He had hardly formulated his thoughts, when the whole 
crowd rushed fiercely upon him with outstretched arms, gnash- 
ing their teeth, and yelling “‘Traitor!” and the Tzar, who proved 
to be Taras Kostrov, seizing him fiercely by the shoulder. 

**Ha!” cried Andrey, and awoke with a start. 

In the dim light of the morning George was bending over 
him, looking him anxiously in the face, and shaking him by the 
shoulder. 

“What is the matter? What do you want of me?” Andrey 
muttered, still under the influence of the dream. 

“You were not well; groaning, gnashing your teeth, and 
shouting in your sleep. I thought you had better be awakened.” 

“JT had a very bad dream,” said Andrey, this time wide 
awake. “I saw Boris and Vasily, and they had called me a 
traitor. And the worse is, that I had deserved it.” 

“That was the word you shouted when I came to wake you 
up!” exclaimed George. 

“Did I? Then it is not so offensive as it would have been 
otherwise,” Andrey said, and he told him his vision. 








5 
. i 
Db. ee 
| ee ae ad 
V a : 
rs 7 ae r 
= t's Ve 
“ad 
“> 


~~ > t 


phn ul al gee 


Ae iis HE Ata if 





Same 


WORCUDGORE clPSEREZ EER ae "fl 


\ 


thing ocd to him in any of hi 
personal issue before him, that t 


anything else. : Be. 
As the fatal moment approache 


understand and forgive him. But at 
way. He realised too vividly the re 


_ stiffness upon his face, when three d 





now all his faculties were so compk 


sacrifice became more exclusive anc 
horrence of death is so strongly roote 
can fully overcome it even in momen 
ment. But no one can keep at | 


tinuously. ‘To cope victoriously with 


cold blood, to subdue and koopa itd : 


after week ender all sorts of moods a 


of enthusiasm must have the support 


reason. 

Andrey, sober minded by natun 
comparatively, was instinctively anxi 
that was likely to divide and imps ir 
more difficult for him to keep hir 
foresaw what the leave taking with 
at one time he had the idea of sendir 
not come at all. It would be bette 
should avoid the parting scene. He 


there was no more chance of his se 
asked him to come? Why should h 
must and will look on that face and h 


They knew very well, both of them, t 


for the unavoidable. They would r 
no purpose. For his part he had 
was possible. 

This was probably the cause ¢ 


Tania at headquarters he came to see 
It was morning. 
The peculiar conditions of thei 

that he could go to see her either in 


or in the evening at dark. He chose tc 
stopped, checked and 


Tania rushed to meet him ar 
frightened by the stony expression ¢ 
never seen before. But why she 
moment she threw herself on his ne 














3°5 























mer enterprises. But 
ngrossed by the great 
no attention left for 


this egotism of self- 
eremptory. The ab- 
n every man, that few 
f great mental excite- 
1 high pressure con- 
powerful instinct in 
n unflinchingly week 
emptations, the flights 
an iron framework of 


nd little inflammable, 
to shun everything 
s energy and make it 
f well in hand. He 
would cost him, and 
er word that he would 


or them both that they 


d no doubt she would 
last moment he gave 
t he would feel when 
e her. Had she not 
so over-careful? He 
that voice once again. 
there was no remedy 
torment each other to 


lived to be as calm as 


certain reserve and 
after his meeting with 
r. 


ew lodgings was such 
morning about twelve 
morning. 


is face, which she had 


mshe mind! The next 


caressing him, looking 





CHAPTER X. 


FAREWELL! 


the fatal day drew close. ‘The body of conspirators 

charged with organising the attempt held daily sittings. 
As the chief actor in the coming drama, Andrey had to be 
consulted upon everything. He went to one of the meetings, 
but he sat buried in thought, hardly opening his mouth all 
the time, and he refused to go again. It bored him to listen 
and give his opinion upon the various contrivances, and he 
thought it not worth his while to risk himself in the streets for 
such a purpose. 

He knew very well that he must, and would do his best, to 
make the attempt successful. The ‘blow would be greater by 
far if the Tzar were killed, or at least wounded. But this was 
for the party. For the party the attempt was the essential 
matter, his own inevitable capture and execution were merely 
incidental. But in his individual brain the tables were turned. 
For him the essential was that he had to die. The attempt 
was a secondary affair, upon which he would have time to 
think when on the spot. In the meanwhile, he could not 
bring himself to take any interest in the matter. He had his 
own business to attend to—which was to die. ‘The rest seemed 
not to concern him in the least. 

The day after the general meeting at which he saw Tania 
a curious thing occurred. In cleaning and putting in order 
his revolver (with which the attempt was to be made), Andrey 
broke a spring. The time was rather short to get it repaired, 
for a holiday happened to intervene. Accordingly, a friend 
offered Andrey his own revolver, which he recommended as 
good in every respect and as never missing fire. Andrey 
accepted the exchange on trust, without so much as going 
once to a shooting gallery or into the fields to try his new 
weapon. He would never have been so careless had the same 


ie via conspiracy advanced rapidly to its completion, and 


a 





! 
FAREWELL ! 305 


thing occurred to him in any of his former enterprises. But 
now all his faculties were so completely engrossed by the great 
personal issue before him, that he had no attention left for 
anything else. 

As the fatal moment approached, this egotism of self- 
sacrifice became more exclusive and peremptory. The ab- 
horrence of death is so strongly rooted in every man, that few 
can fully overcome it even in moments of great mental excite- 
ment. But no one can keep at such high pressure con- 
tinuously. ‘To cope victoriously with this powerful instinct in 
cold blood, to subdue and keep it down unflinchingly week 
after week under all sorts of moods and temptations, the flights 
of enthusiasm must have the support of an iron framework of 
reason. 

Andrey, sober minded by nature and little inflammable, 

- comparatively, was instinctively anxious to shun everything 
that was likely to divide and impair his energy and make it 
more difficult for him to keep himself well in hand. He 
foresaw what the leave-taking with Tania would cost him, and 
at one time he had the idea of sending her word that he would 
not come at all. It would be bettér for them both that they 
should avoid the parting scene. He had no doubt she would 

understand and forgive him. But at the last moment he gave 
way. He realised too vividly the regret he would feel when 
there was no more chance of his seeing her. Had she not 
asked him to come? Why should he be so over-careful? He 
must and will look on that face and hear that voice once again. 
They knew very well, both of them, that there was no remedy 
for the unavoidable. ‘They would not torment each other to 
no purpose. For his part he had resolved to be as calm as 
was possible. 

This was probably the cause of a certain reserve and 
stiffness upon his face, when three days after his meeting with 
Tania at headquarters he came to see her. 

It was morning. 

The peculiar conditions of their new lodgings was such 
that he could go to see her either in the morning about twelve 
or in the evening at dark. He chose the morning. 

Tania rushed to meet him and stopped, checked and 
frightened by the stony expression of his face, which she had 
never seen before. But why should she mind! The next 
moment she threw herself on his neck, caressing him, looking 

U 





306 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


into his eyes lovingly, resolved to dispel the gloom that hung 
upon his brow. 

** Why did you not come yesterday or the day before,” she — 
said, gently. ‘‘I thought you would come You might have 
been not so very cautious for once, .. .” she added with a 
tinge of reproach. 

She could not keep this back, though she hastened to lessen 
its sting with a smile. The words escaped her involuntarily. 
She was so disappointed at what she considered Andrey’s 
carelessness of her last wish. 

Andrey shook his head, and said curtly that it was not over- 
caution which had detained him. 

It pained him to think that Tania could give such an 
interpretation to his behaviour. But why should he set her 
right? Why tell her of his struggles? 

“Tt must be your affair,” Tania guessed. 

He nodded in silence. 

Then she knew that the matter was progressing steadily, and 
that this was for certain their last interview. She dropped her 
head. But her short observation was to Andrey like a push 
which sets in motion a car standing on the rail. He began 
speaking of the attempt. | 

‘“‘ Everything is already settled,” he said, “and all is so 
well combined that we cannot fail.” 

He went on as if this was the most cheering topic for both 
of them. He entered into minute descriptions of the scheme, 
telling how they would contrive to break through the swarm of 
‘spies surrounding the Tzar on all sides during his morning 
walk around his palace; how he would keep out of the way 
until the very last moment, mentioning the small devices he 
would use so as to have more chance of escaping arrest before 
the Tzar came. 

Tania drew herself a little away, looking at him with wide 
open eyes. She did not listen to his tale at all, she watched 
him wondering. As Andrey proceeded in his circumstantial 
narrative her wonder increased. Why was he telling it all to 
her? He seemed tired of the story himself, for his tone was dry 
and monotonous. His face wore the stony expression that had 
struck her when he first entered, only it was more marked. She 
did not recognise her Andrey. ‘This man was a stranger to her. 

“ They have changed him there into another man!” she 
cried inwardly, as his words fell jarring upon her ears. 








FAREWELL ! 307 


Not a word of love or affection, not one kind look! And 
this at their last interview, before they would part for ever, 
after such love as theirs had been! 

“Yes, yes, they have changed him by stealth! ‘This is not 
my Andrey, ... Mine was a different man, .. .” she re- 
- peated, biting her parched lips and swallowing her tears lest 
she should entirely break down. 

His narrative and explanations irritated her. When he 
began to talk about those skilful devices of theirs she could not 
contain herself any longer. 

“Confound your Tzar and your devices and your sen- 
tinels!” she burst forth vehemently. 

“Tania!” he exclaimed, with a look of pained surprise. 

She clasped her head in despair. It was horrible she 
should treat him thus at such a moment. 

‘Forgive me!” she said, seizing his hand, and throwing her 
head down upon it. ‘I do not know what I’m saying.” 

She did not get up at once, but remained with her head 
leaning over the arm of his chair. Her hair fell over her 
cheeks and temples, hiding her face. Her lips were parted ; 
she breathed heavily. 

Andrey thought she was crying. The sight tore his heart. 
But what consolation could he offer? What could he tell her 
that would not sound flat and trivial, an insult to her great 
sorrow? He caressed her hair, gently trying to put it in order. 

When she lifted up her face he saw that she had not been 
crying. Her eyes were feverish and dry. She looked hard at 
him, and turned her head away wringing her fingers. 

She knew that he was on the point of going, and she might 
die here on the spot of a broken heart, or dash her head 
against the wall—that would not detain him, not even for these 
three days which he might well have given to her! A stone 
would be more pitiful than he was. He would feel nothing 
but contempt for her weakness if she said a word about it! ... 
Why then had he come at all? ... 

Andrey rose in fact. 

“Farewell, my darling!” he whispered, stretching out his 
hands to her. 

She started as if he had said something quite unexpected. 

“No, not yet!” she exclaimed, frightened. ‘Not. yet!” 
she repeated in a loud voice, imploringly. 

He drew her to him and pressed her in his arms. 


308 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


“Farewell!” he repeated. ‘It is time. ... Tania, my 
darling, my own,” he exclaimed from the depths of his soul; 
‘“‘how happy we might have been together !” 

She looked into his eyes and recognised at last her Andrey, 
her beloved, whom she had so wronged in her thoughts! She 
had recovered him, but only to feel more keenly that she had: 
to lose him instantly, with no means of keeping him for 
another moment ! 

The pain almost distracted her. It was too horrible to be 
true. It could not be. To love as they did, and to let him 
go and be killed. . . . But she could not live without him! 
He was her life, the light of her soul! It was not her fault | 
that he became all to her... . 

“Listen, Andrey,” she cried passionately. ‘‘ You are mine. 
“You told me that yourself, and I won’t let you go. No, I 
won't! Do you hear?” 

To her distracted mind it seemed strictly logical, unan- 
swerably logical. 

But the next moment her fingers clutching his arm 
slackened their hold. She bent her face down, and sank into 
the chair pale, exhausted, her eyes closed, waving her hand 
for him to go. 

There was a something greater to which they had both 
pledged their all: lives, hearts, thoughts, happiness. 

She gave him up, wishing that he would go quickly, and 
she not see it. 

But it was harder for him to leave her now than if she had 
clung to his garments. He threw himself at her feet, kissing 
her hands, face, eyes, in a fit of vehement, wild passion. 

“‘Go! I cannot bear it any longer. . . . I am better now. 
Go quickly.” 

He tore himself away by force, and ran downstairs as if all 
the furies pursued him. He could not see clearly for the mist 
in his eyes ; his head was whirling, and the street swam as if 
he was drunk. 

Tania did not hear him go away. But she heard the noise 
of the outer gate of the courtyard. As a man stunned by a 
blow on the head will revive at the touch of a red-hot iron, so 
Tania jumped up at this sound, and rushed to the window 
with the hope of catching a last glimpse of Andrey. 

But he had already slammed the gate behind him and was 
gone. Gone, for ever gone! He was still alive, but for her 





FAREWELL ! 309 


he was lost, and everything seemed to have crumbled away for 
her in that frightful, unnatural, incomprehensible bereavement. 
She could not struggle against her grief any longer. Over- 
powered she covered her eyes with her hands, and fell upon the 
sofa, her face against the dirty chintz, and burst into burning, 
irrepressible tears. She thought that she would cry her very 
life out! She could not have believed there were so many 
tears in hereyes. They streamed between her fingers—she had 
forgotten to use her handkerchief—wetting her hands through, 
covering with wet spots the cushion, whilst her body was shaken 
and her breast torn with convulsive, frantic sobs. Her love, 
her life, her youth, her all, seemed wrecked and submerged in 
that bleak emptiness which fell upon her. The cause! The 
country! They did not exist for her at that moment. She 
could think of herself alone, and her misery, which seemed to 
have no end, and no relief, but doomed to last as long as she 
had breath in her. . 


Let us draw the curtain upon her sorrow. Her fit of 
despair will pass—not to-day and not to-morrow—but in time, 
and will leave her another woman. She would not have been 
so crushed had she to pass through the same trial a few years 
later. But it was her fate to begin at once with the hardest. 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE LAST WALK THROUGH THE TOWN. 


HE great and terrible day had come. 
From early dawn Andrey only slumbered, awakened 


every quarter of an hour by his excessive dread of 
missing his time. 

A strip of dazzling light, penetrating through a rent in the 
blind, played upon the wall opposite his couch, announcing a 
splendid day. When that strip reached the corner of the chest 
of drawers he knew that it would be time for him to rise. But 
he preferred to get up at once. 

He pulled the bedclothes from the leather couch which 
had served him as bed during his stay at headquarters, and 
carefully folding them up he put them away in the yellow chest 
of drawers standing opposite. 

“To-night I shall sleep in the cell of the Fortress, if I’m 
not killed on the spot,” he said to himself. 

He closed the drawers, and proceeded to pull up the blinds 
of the two windows. 

The remark was made in the plainest matter-of-fact tone, 
just as if he had been merely stating that the weather promised 
to be fair that day. 

He was in a peculiar state of mind this morning, as distant 
from despondent resignation as from exaltation or from passion 
of any kind. It was the cold, absolute inward peace of a man 
who had settled all accounts with life, and had nothing to ex- 
pect or to fear or to give. True, there was yet that deed for 
him to do. But so much had been already overcome towards 
its completion, and the little which yet remained was now so 
certain to be carried out, that this great deed of his life he 
almost considered as accomplished. Whilst still a living man 
in full command of his mental and physical energy, he had the 
strange, but perfectly tangible sensation of being already dead, 
looking upon himself, all those connected with him, and the 





THE LAST WALK THROUGH THE TOWN. 311 


whole world, with the unruffled, somewhat pitying serenity of a 
stranger. 

The whole of his life was clearly present to his mind, in the 
minutest details, very clear, the proportions well preserved. 
He thought of Tania, of the friends he was leaving behind him, 
of their party, of the country,—but in a calm dispassionate 
way, as if everything that held him to life had receded to an 
enormous distance. Of thrilling and ardent emotions, such as 
those which at one time had carried him almost out of himself 
in Dubravnik, there was no trace, and he was very glad of this. 
When all was well over with him, the work of his whole life 
fulfilled to the last without fear or guile, and he stood alone 
face to face with the great solemnity of death—these beautiful 
and elevating emotions would return to him, he knew, and 
uphold him in the last trial. But during these days of prepara- 
tion he had deliberately suppressed them as too fervid and 
vehement, whenever he had felt them stirring. He wanted to 
keep his head quite cool for the deed. The cold unbending 
will, planted on the granite foundations of necessity, would 
serve better for this occasion. 

He was dressed and quite ready when the door opened 
noiselessly and Vatajko entered. He had come to St Peters- 
burg on “‘ business,” and whilst waiting for his own affair, had 
undertaken one of the accessory functions in connection with 
the coming attempt. As a temporary guest Vatajko also 
lodged at headquarters and slept in another room. He had 
been up long ago and waiting until it was time to come in to 
wake Andrey if he should be asleep. 

“You are up already!” he exclaimed by way of greeting. 

Vatajko looked grave with a tint of bashfulness in his eyes. 
He was very glad of the opportunity of spending another half- 
hour with Andrey, yet he was nervous lest Andrey should be 
disturbed by his presence. 

Andrey gave him a slight friendly nod, without saying 
anything. He was hardly conscious that the young man was 
there, looking at him wistfully. To him Vatajko was no more 
than a shadow. 

** One of your sentinels,” the young man began hesitatingly, 
“ asked whether he might come to bid farewell to you here, as it 
can’t be done when you are both on the spot. He says he 
knows you, and hopes it will not trouble you in any way.’ 

* Not in the least. JI shall be very glad to see him,” 





year aro when he was gomg 2broad, and you were coming im” 
“Ob. yes.” Amdrey sand. z = 
He remeobered the crossimg of the frontier, the German 

iam, the momy Gehases; bet how remote # all was now! z 


——™>™E——————————— 





.’ 
| THE LAST W4ik THEOUCS THE TOW 313 


The keave-toking was short and eodemosraive. mom of 
the three wanting to waste tee of words The two yore 
men embsaced Andrey m tom m the Ressam isto 


ee | Segemiad Sspeents of 
and broken recollections wieried thromeh bs bream we sock 
feversh rapidity that the copecty for ans tame forsook 


of the warmth, the joy, the Ie m poured moo thom 


314 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


from the contemplation of the beautiful, serene sky; it gave him 
the assurance that the Tzar’s morning walk would not be put 
off on account of bad weather, as sometimes occurred. 

This point was of the utmost importance. A few days ago 
the conspirators had been surprised by the announcement of 
a very untoward change in the projected movements of the 
court. The Tzar was to start on his summer journey before 
the usual time, and might leave town in aday or two. Atsuch 
a juncture a day like this was a godsend. 

The distance to the Palace Square, where the attempt had to 
take place, was considerable. But Andrey intended to traverse 
it all on foot: he would be more independent of chance in walk- 
ing than in riding, and could easily regulate his pace so as to 
reach the spot in time, not one minute too soon or too late. 
Besides, as a foot passenger he would be much less noticeable 
on approaching the Tzar’s promenade ground, which teemed 
with spies. 

In his calm stoical mood Andrey walked along Lafonskaia 
Street, Transfiguration Square, and a part of Taurida Street, 
partly with, partly against the human stream, receiving upon 
his retina the images of faces—young, old, merry, serious; of 
horses, carriages, shops, policemen—all instantly forgotten as 
soon as he had passed them, attentive only to keep at his 
regular pace. Thus he reached the corner of the Taurida Garden, 
where a chance meeting with two perfect strangers upset his 
mental equilibrium, and brought disorder and tumult into the 
mental calm which he thought no longer subject to any dis- 
turbance. 

These strangers, whose path came so unseasonably across 
his own, were two young folks,—a girl and a young man, 
looking like students, and to all appearances lovers. They 
came from the Greek Street, and were going arm-in-arm talking, 
along the outer railing of the Taurida Garden, smiling, caress- 
ing each other with their eyes. The young man was telling 
the girl in a low voice something very tender, judging from the 
radiant face of the girl. The pair went on slowly, almost 
reluctantly, as if burdened with their happiness, paying no 
attention to anything around. 

But Andrey could not take his eyes off that girl ; she was 
so remarkably like his own Tania. She was a little taller, and 
the lower part of her face was heavier, but the complexion, the 

quaint set of the head, the long eyebrows, resembling the 





THE LAST WALK THROUGH THE TOWN. 315 


outstretched wings of a bird, and that something which gives 
character to a face and to a figure, were exactly those of Tania. 
She was even dressed in dark blue, T'ania’s favourite colour. 
Andrey would have given much to see her eyes; he was sure 
they would be like those he was never to look into again. But 
the girl’s face was turned in profile to him, and she never 
bestowed one glance in his direction. 

She had melted and fascinated him all the same, awakening 
feelings and memories he thought lulled in eternal sleep. The 
stern mood of the man going to meet his gloomy destiny could 
not hold out against the charm of that vision. His benumbed 
heart beat again with the generous throb of human love, as he 
gave that beautiful child his unspoken blessing, mentally 
bidding her live and be happy, and be spared the bereavement 
her sister had to suffer. 

The girl passed, smiling and blushing, little suspecting the 
emotions she had caused in the stranger against whom she 
had brushed. The couple turned the corner and disappeared. 
But Andrey could not at once recover his self-control. The 
layer of ice, with which by an effort of will he had succeeded 
in covering up all his feelings, was broken, and the sea of 
bitter sadness hidden beneath burst forth. He had no power 
to master and bind it fast again. The image of his Tania rose 
before him no longer as a distant shadow, but warm with life, 
suffering, love, and beauty, as close and real as the girl who 
had just passed him. 

How was the poor child now? How will she be to-night, 
when the act anticipated has become an accomplished fact? 
How will she bear it, when all was over with him?... 
Thoughts each sadder than the other invaded his defenceless 
soul. Why had they loved each other? Why had they met 
at. all? Had she never seen him, she would probably have 
loved George. They would have married and lived happy for 
who knows how many years! ... Whilst now, only a few 
months of happiness to be paid for at so dreadful a price! .. . 
Pictures of the past rose in his mind one after another in the 
fulness of their charm or their painfulness. The scenes of 
their love: that face, those eyes glowing with a happiness that 
seemed eternal! And then the same dear face distorted by 
the anguish of that last farewell! .. . 

Mechanically Andrey went on in the right direction, but 
his thoughts wandered far away. He did not notice in his 


316 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 


absorption a dreadful sign ; the foot passengers whom he had 
hitherto passed by in his brisk though not exaggerated pace, 
were now passing him. Unconsciously he had greatly slackened 
his pace. He passed the Taurida Garden, the long Kirochnaia, 
a part of the Liteiny, and reached the Panteleimon church, and 
here it dawned upon him as a vague suspicion that he had 
walked somewhat more slowly than he should have done. He 
looked at his watch, and his blood ran cold and his heart 
ceased beating in the blank horror of his discovery : he would 
be too late! Only three minutes left and half a mile before 
him! The Tzar might leave town, and not come out walking 
on the morrow. .. . 

Love, pity, dreams, sorrows—all dashed away in an instant, 
vanishing in the twinkling of the eye, as a flight of sparrows 
in a stubble field vanish when a stone falls into their midst. 
His face pale, Andrey rushed forward, driven on and scourged 
by the awful thought that he had ruined everything by his 
foolish sentimentality ! 

He would have preferred running, if he could, but this would 
have singled him out for the attention of the police. On, on! 
he would walk and keep up appearances, and yet get on faster 
than cabs driving in the middle of the street. He passed like 
an arrow the Panteleimon Street, the bridge, the summer garden, 
without feeling in the least tired. Fear seemed to have doubled 
his strength ; but this was a delusion ; the overwhelming dread 
which tormented him, and set his heart hammering in his breast, 
had spurred him to extraordinary exertions only for a short time, 
and then were gnawing at the root of his strength. As he 
hastened along the Field of Mars, his breath began to fail him. 

. But, on, on! he might be in time yet ; the Tzar was some- 
times a few minutes late. Again he dashed on, redoubling his 
efforts to keep at the same pace as before. . ... 

He was suffocating. His breast was aching as if pierced 
by hundreds of needles. Every hundred yards cost him a 
greater effort. 

The physical sensation he underwent in this mad race recalled 
to his mind in a flash another run of earlier days, when, pursued 
closely through woods and marshes, his horse falling under 
him, his salvation depended upon his reaching a large town 
before his pursuers. But even then, in that race for life and 
freedom, he was not half so anxious to reach the goal as he 
was now in tha mad chase after death !—But he had no time 








THE LAST WALK THROUGH THE TOWN. 317 


to waste on parallels and contrasts. On, on! The drill-field 
is crossed as quickly as his failing strength permitted. He had 
not looked at his watch again in order not to waste one precious 
moment, but he knew only too well that he was hopelessly 
behind time. Yet he hastened on with furious energy. On, 
on! He had only two streets to get through. But already 
the ground swam under him, and his legs trembled. He must 


- slacken his pace or run the risk of falling to the ground, and 


being picked up by the police as a drunkard. What was the 
use, moreover, of appearing in the sight of spies like a mad- 
man escaping from an asylum ? 

He went more slowly accordingly. When he issued upon 
a little bye-street near the Palace, where Vatajko stood waiting 
for him, he looked composed and presentable, but death and 
despair were in his soul. He could no longer doubt that the 
whole affair had miscarried owing to him ; he read that in the 
troubled face of his sentinel. 

“What ? I am too late?” he asked falteringly, only too 
sure of the answer. 

“No ; you are not,” Vatajko said, “ but I thought you would 
be. The Tzar has taken a longer walk to-day on account of 


- the fine weather.” 


Andrey gave asigh of relief. Vatajko’s words had refreshed 
and restored him, and almost taken away his fatigue, due 
more to mental than to physical strain. 

“Nothing particular happened to detain you?” Vatajko 
inquired. 

“Nothing whatever,” said Andrey. ‘I will wait here on 
this bench,” he added, pointing to a stone seat by the footpath. 
“Go and set the men in movement.” 

When alone Andrey lifted his right hand against the sky. 
He wanted to see whether it was sufficiently steady. Not 
quite! The fingers trembled, though not much. A few minutes 
after he lifted it again and found that it was all right. 

He was quite ready now and waited calmly. 

Another few minutes passed, and he saw Sazepin’s tall figure 
advancing in his direction. Andrey rose to meet him half 
way ; Sazepin was the bearer of the final word which would 


_ bring him into the field. 


Sazepin’s face was solemn and even sad. When they were 
quite close he fixed upon Andrey a significant, reverential 
look, making a long affirmative nod, resembling a bow. 


318 THE CAREER OF A NIHILIST. 





He understood that the message was a favourable one, but 
in a case of such gravity he wanted something positive. 

“ The ‘I'zar is coming his usual way,” Sazepin whispered. 

Andrey nodded to say that it was all right, and moved 
forward, waving his hand slightly to Sazepin to bid him retire 
from the scene. 

His turn was come now! 

He was still some three hundred yards from the Palace 
Square, when he found himself in the very midst of the Tzar’s 

spies and guardians, stationary and moving, watching every 
approach of the ‘T'zar’s way with the special purpose of keeping 
off, and at the slightest suspicion of arresting, all strangers male 
and female. One of them—a grey-haired respectable gentle- 
man, whom Andrey would have never suspected of being a spy 
—approached him at once. 

“Be good enough, sir,” he said, politely, but impressively, 
“ to take another road.” 

“Why?” Andrey asked ingenuously, moving at the same 
time forward so as to gain as much ground as possible. 

“Tt is strictly prohibited for any one to go that way,” the 
old gentleman said, following him closely. ‘ Please return 
instantly, or you will get into trouble!” 

Andrey shrugged his shoulders. 

‘ But there is nothing in the street to prevent people crossing 
it!” he said, with assumed wonder, always going forward. 

The old man waved his hand, and two tall figures in plain 
clothes, standing some thirty yards farther off, ran towards 
Andrey with the evident intention of laying hands on him. 
His position was a very critical one. He stopped, intending 
to enter if possible into some kind of altercation with the 
spies so as to gain a few minutes. 

But the conspirators had calculated their movements well ; 
at this very moment the Tzar’s dog appeared at the mouth of 
the street, and the spies vanished ; the Tzar would pass in a 
minute, and they were bound to have his way cleared before 
he came. 

Andrey went slowly along and reached the corner of the 
street unmolested. 

The Tzar was at this moment a few paces beyond the 
monument to Alexander I., facing the Palace. 

From the window of a house opposite two young men 


k 
‘Speak out!” said Andrey. | ( 
i 











THE LAST WALK THROUGH THE TOWN. 319 


looked upon the scene of the coming encounter with beating 
hearts. 

George was one of them. He had seen Andrey’s coming in 
collision with the three spies, and had already given him up 
for lost. Now he sawthe master of all the Russias turning the 
corner, and Andrey, calm, stern as fate, moving towards him. 
On seeing a stranger in his way the Tzar gave a momentary 
start, but still went on. 

In breathless suspense George watched as the distance 
between the two diminished step by step until they seemed to 
him to have come within a few paces of each other and nothing 
had yet happened, and they were still advancing. . . . Why 
does he wait? What could it mean? ... But it was a 
delusion ; the distance which appeared in perspective so short 
was about fifteen yards. 

Here according to regulations Andrey had to take off his 
hat and stand bareheaded until his master should pass. But, 
instead of doing that act of obeisance, he plunged his hand 
into his pocket, drew a revolver, pointed and fired at the 
Tzar instantaneously. 

The ball struck in the wall of the house at the Tzar’s back 
some forty yards off, almost under the cornice. The shot had 
missed ; the revolver kicked strongly, and had to be pointed at 
the feet for a fatal shot. ‘This Andrey discovered too late. 
For a moment he stood petrified with consternation, both 
hands hanging down. The next moment he rushed onward, 
his brow knitted, his face pale, firing shot after shot. The 
Tzar, pale likewise, the flaps of his long overcoat gathered up 
in his hands, ran from him as quickly as he could. But he 
did not lose his presence of mind; instead of running 
straight, he ran in zigzags, thus offering a very difficult aim 
to the man running behind him. That saved him; only one 
of the shots pierced the cape of his overcoat, the rest missed 
altogether. 

In less than a minute Andrey’s six shots were spent. The 
flock of spies, who at first had made themselves scarce, now 
appeared from all sides, their numbers growing every moment. 
George saw Andrey encompassed at all points by the crowd of 
_ them, wild at his having eluded their vigilance. For a moment 
they stood at a distance, cautious, none daring to be the first 
to approach him. Then seeing him disarmed and making 
no show of resistance, they rushed on him all at once. But 





Geno bela ouir their fierce’ een ‘sade cr. 
covered his face with both his hands and saw 1 







Andrey was pees into prison half dead. 
and was in due time tried, condemned: and exect 







' aes He had rakes But the work for which he 
‘a perish. It goes forward from defeat to defeat 
| final victory, which in this sad world of ours cann 

save by the sufferings and the sacrifice of oo 


> ee 


a 
ot 
_#7 


wen =. 


THE Enp. 


A OS Stee nee 
' 


.s 


: 





- Printed by WaTER Scott, Felling, Newcastle-on-Tyne. 








_ SEPTEMBER 1800. 





_ List of Walter Scott’ s Publications. 





Co N Tv ENTS. 
- : PAGE PAGE 
Count TOLSTOI’S WORKS 1 GUIDE AND HAND-BOOKS-~ - 18-14 » 


GREAT WRITERS 2-3 THE EVERY-DAY HELP SERIES - 14 


CAMELOT SERIES - 

CANTERBURY POETS - 

THE WINDSOR SERIES 
THE OXFORD LIBRARY 
REWARD Books 

THE NOVOCASTRIAN SERIES 

RECENT VOLUMES OF VERSE 
BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG - 


4 LOCAL PUBLICATIONS . . - 15 
5 NEW BOOKLETS . : . 
6 SCIENCE SERIES - . - . ws, AT 
Z PAMPHLETS - - - 

9 
10 


MISCELLANEOUS - - . a a8 
Bisgou Books - 19 


- SHILLING BOOKS IN PAPER CovERS 20 
11-12 ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BOOKS - 2) 








Crown 8vo, about 350 pp. each, Cloth Cover, 2s. 6d. per Volume, 
Half Polished Morocco, gilt top, 5s. 


COUNT TOLSTOI’S COMPLETE WORKS. 


R. WALTER SCOTT has pleasure in calling attention to the series of 
translations of works by the eminent Russian novelist, Count Lyof N. 

Tolstoi, which he has published, _ These translations admirably reproduce the 
spirit and style of the original. The English reading public have been intro- 
duced to an entirely new series of works by one who Is probably the greatest 
living master of fiction in Europe, and one upon whose personality and opinions, 
—social, ethical, and religious,—a unique attention is concentrated. To those 
unfamiliar with the charm of Russian fiction, and especially with the works of 
Count Tolstoi, these volumes will come as a new revelation of power. 


The following volumes are already issued :— 


Vout. I. A RUSSIAN PROPRIETOR. ‘ 
Vou. II. THE COSSACKS. 

Vou. III. IVAN ILYITCH, Aanp oTHER STORIES, 
Vout. IV. THE INVADERS, AND oTHER STORIES. 
Vout. V. MY RELIGION. 

Vou. VI. LIFE. 

Vout. VII. MY CONFESSION. 

Vou. VIII. CHILDHOOD, BOYHOOD, AND YOUTH. 
‘Voit. IX. THE PHYSIOLOGY OF WAR. 

Vot. X. anp XI. ANNA KARENINA. (2 VoLs.) 
Vou. XII. WHAT TO DOP 
Vou. XIII. ro XVI. WAR AND PEACE. (4 Vots.) 
VoL. XVII. THE LONG EXILE, AND OTHER STORIES FOR 
CHILDREN. 

VoL. XVIII. SEVASTOPOL. 


VoL. XIX. THE KREUTZER SONATA, AND FAMILY 
HAPPINESS. 
Uniform with the above. 
IMPRESSIONS OF RUSSIA. 
By Dr. GrorGc BRANDES. 





London: WALTER ScoTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 


GREAT WRITERS. 


A NEW SERIES OF CRITICAL BIOGRAPHIES, 
Edited by Professor ERIC S. ROBERTSON, M.A. 


MONTHLY SHILLING VOLUMES, CROWN 8vo. 


Bindings :—Cloth, cut edges, 1s. ; cloth, uncut edges, 1s. ; half-morocco, gilt top 
antique (in a variety of new reproductions of old tints), 





VOLUMES ALREADY ISSUED. 


1 LIFE OF LONGFELLOW. By Prof. Erie S. Robertson. 
“A most readable little work.”—Liverpool Mercury. 
2 LIFE OF COLERIDGE. By Hall Caine. 


‘‘Brief and vigorous, written throughout with spirit and great literary skill.”— 
Scotsman, 
3 LIFE OF DICKENS. By Frank T. Marsials, 


“Notwithstanding the mass of matter that has been printed relating to Dickens 
and his works . . . we should, until we came across this volume, have been at a loss 


to recommend any popular life of England’s most popular novelist as being really 


satisfactory. The difficulty is removed by Mr. Marzials’s little book.”—Atheneum. 


4 LIFE OF DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. By J. Knight. 
“Mr. Knight’s picture of the great poet and painter is the fullest and best yet 
presented to the public.”—The Graphic. 


gs LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON. By Colonel F. Grant. 
“Colonel Grant has performed his task with diligence, sound judgment, good 
taste, and accuracy.”—I llustrated London News. 


6 LIFE OF DARWIN. By G. T. Bettany. 

“Mr. G. T. Bettany’s Life of Darwin is a sound and conscientious work."— 
Saturday Review. 

y LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE. By A. Birrell. 


“Those who know much of Charlotte Bronté will learn more, and those whe 
know nothing about her will find all that is best worth learning in Mr. Birrell’s 
pleasant book.”— St. James’ Gazette. 


8 LIFE OF THOMAS CARLYLE. By R. Garnett, LL.D. 
‘‘ This is an admirable book. Nothing could be more felicitous and fairer than 

the way in which he takes us through Cdrlyle’s life and works.” — Pall Mali Gazette, 

9 LIFE OF ADAM SMITH. By R. B. Haldane, M.P. 


‘Written with a perspicuity seldom exemplified when dealing with economic 
science.”—Scotsman. 


1o LIFE OF KEATS. By W. M. Rossetti. 
‘** Valuable for the ample information which it contains.”—Cambridge Independent. 
11 LIFE OF SHELLEY. By William Sharp. 


‘*The criticisms . . . entitle this capital monograph to be ranked with the best 
biographies of Shelley.”—Westminster Review. 


12 LIFE OF SMOLLETT. By David Hannay. 
**A capital record of a writer who still remains one of the great masters of the 
English novel.”—Saturday Review. 


13 LIFE OF GOLDSMITH. By Austin Dobson. 
** The story of his literary and social life in London, with all its humorous and 
pathetic vicissitudes, is here retold, as none could tell it better.”—Daily News. 


14 LIFE OF SCOTT. By Professor Yonge, 


“For readers and lovers of the poems and novels of Sir Walter Scott, this is a 
most enjoyable book.”— Aberdeen Free Press. 











GREAT WRITERS—( Continued). 


Ty LIFE OF BURNS, By Professor Blackie, 
“The editor certainly made a hit when he persuaded Blackie to write about 
Burns.”—Pall Mall Gaeette, 


16 LIFE OF BUNYAN. By Canon Venables. 
“A most intelligent, appreciative, and valuable cileabln?sieionae. ‘ 
17 LIFE OF VICTOR HUGO. By Frank T. Marzials. 


‘Mr. Marzials’s volume presents to us, in a more handy form than any English, or 
even French handbook Eives, the summary of what, up to the moment in which we 
write, is known or conjettured about the life of the great poet.”—Saturday Review. 


18 LIFE OF EMERSON. By Richard Garnett, LL.D. 

* As to the larger section of the ag to whom the series of Great Writers is 

addressed, no record of Emerson’s life and work could be more desirable, both in 
breadth of treatment and lucidity of style, than Dr. Garnett’s.”—-Saturday Review. 


19 LIFE OF GOETHE. By James Sime. 

‘‘Mr. James Sime’s competence as a bogie het of Goethe, both in respect of 

knowledge of his special subject, and of German literature generally, is beyond 
question.”—Manchester Guardian, 


20 LIFE OF CONGREVE. By Edmund Gosse. 
‘Mr, Gosse has written an admirable and most interesting biography of a man of 
letters who is of particular interest to other men of letters.”—The Academy. 


21 LIFE OF CRABBE. By T. E. Kebbel. 
‘* No English poet since Shakespeare has observed certain aspects of nature anid 

of human life more closely ; and in the qualities of manliness and of sincerity he is 
surpassed by none, . Mr. Kebbel’s monograph is worthy of the subject.”— 


Atheneum. 
22 LIFE OF HEINE. By William Sharp. 
‘“‘This is an admirable monograph . . . more fully written up to the level of recent 
knowledge and criticism of its theme than any other English work.”—Scotsman. 
23 LIFE OF MILL. By W. L. Courtney. 
‘¢ A most sympathetic and discriminating memoir.”—Glasgow Herald. 
24 LIFE OF SCHILLER. By Henry W. Nevinson. 


“This is a well-written little volume, which presents the leading facts of the 
poet’s life in a neatly rounded picture.”—Scotsman. 


a4 LIFE OF MARRYAT. By David Eiaingy. 

“What Mr. Hannay had to do—give a craftsman-like account of a great crafts- 

man who has been almost incomprehensibly undervalued—could rdly have 
been done better than in this little volume.”—Manchester Guardian. 


26 LIFE OF LESSING. By T. W. Rolleston. 
27 LIFE OF MILTON. By Richard Garnett. 
28 LIFE OF GEORGE ELIOT. By Oscar Browning. 
29 LIFE OF BALZAC, By Frederick Wedmore. 
The following Voluines will shortly be Issued :— 
30 LIFE OF JANE AUSTEN. (Feb. 25th). By Goldwin Smith. 
31 LIFE OF BROWNING. (March 25th). By William Sharp. 
‘ After this volume, the issue of this series will be bi-monthly. 
32 LIFE OF BYRON. (May 25th). By Hon. Roden Noel. 


Complete Bibliography to each volume, vy J. P. ANDERSON, British Museum, 


Volumes are in pee orion by Goldwin Smith, Arthur Symons, W. E. Henley, 
Hermann Merivale, H. E. Watts, Cosmo Monkhouse, Frank T. Marzials, W. H. Pollo 
John Addington Symonds, Stepniak, Moncure Conway, Prof. Wallace, etc.; ete. 


LIBRARY EDITION OF “GREAT WRITERS.”—Demy 8vo, price 2s. 6d, 





London: WALTER ScorTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 





4 


THE CAMELOT SERIES. 


Eprrep By Ernest Ruys. In SHi~LiIna MontTHLY VOLUMES, CROWN 8vO, 





t*eROMANCE OF KING ARTHUR. Edited by E. Rhys. 


2 THOREAU’S WALDEN. Edited by Will H. Dircks. 
3 ENGLISH OPIUM-EATER. Edited by William Sharp. 
4 LANDOR’S CONVERSATIONS. Edited by Havelock Ellis. 
§ PLUTARCH’S LIVES. Edited by B. J. Snell, M.A, 
6 RELIGIO MEDICI, &c. Edited by J. A. Symonds. 
7 SHELLEY’S LETTERS. Edited by Ernest Rhys. 
8 PROSE WRITINGS OF SWIFT. Edited by W. Lewin. 
9 MY STUDY WINDOWS. Edited by R. Garnett, LL.D. 
10 GREAT ENGLISH PAINTERS. Edited by William Sharp. 
11 LORD BYRON’S LETTERS. Edited by Mathilde Blind. 
12 ESSAYS BY LEIGH HUNT. Edited by A. Symons. 
13 LONGFELLOW’S PROSE. Edited by W. Tirebuck, 
14 GREAT MUSICAL COMPOSERS. Edited by E. Sharp. 
15 MARCUS AURELIUS. Edited by Alice Zimmern. 
16 SPECIMEN DAYS IN AMERICA. By Walt Whitman, 
17 WHITE’S SELBORNE. Edited by Richard Jefferies. 
18 DEFOE’S SINGLETON. Edited by H.. Halliday Sparling. 
19 MAZZINI’S ESSAYS. Edited by William Clarke, 
20 PROSE WRITINGS OF HEINE. Edited by Havelock Ellis, 
21 REYNOLDS’ DISCOURSES. Edited by Helen Zimmern, 
22 PAPERS OF STEELE AND ADDISON. Edited by W. Lewin. 
23 BURNS’S LETTERS. Edited by J. Logie Robertson, M.A. 
24 THE STORY OF THE VOLSUNGS. Edited by H. H. Sparling. 
25 SARTOR RESARTUS. Edited by Ernest Rhys, 
26 WRITINGS OF EMERSON. Edited by Percival Chubb. 
27 SENECA’S MORALS. Edited by Walter Clode. 
28 DEMOCRATIC VISTAS. By Walt Whitman, 
29 LIFE OF LORD HERBERT. Edited by Will H. Dircks, 
30 ENGLISH PROSE, Edited by Arthur Galton, 
31 IBSEN’S PILLARS OF SOCIETY. Edited by Havelock Ellis, 
32 FAIRY AND FOLK TALES. Edited by W. B. Yeats, 
33 EPICTETUS. Edited by T. W. Rolleston. 
4 THE ENGLISH POETS. By James Russell Lowell. 
35 ESSAYS OF DR. JOHNSON. Edited by Stuart J. Reid. 
36 ESSAYS OF WILLIAM HAZLITT. Edited by Frank Carr, 
37 LANDOR’S PENTAMERON, &c. Edited by Havelock Ellis. 
38 POE’S TALES AND ESSAYS. Edited by Ernest Rhys, 
39 VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. By Oliver Goldsmith, 
40 POLITICAL ORATIONS. Edited by William Clarke. 
41 CHESTERFIELD’S LETTERS. Selected by Charles Sayle. 
42 THOREAU’S WEEK. Edited by Will H. Dircks, 
43 STORIES FROM CARLETON. Edited by W. B. Yeats 
44 AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST TABLE. By O. W. Holmes, 
45 JANE EYRE. By Charlotte Bronté, 
46 ELIZABETHAN ENGLAND. Edited by Lothrop Withington, 
47 WRITINGS OF THOMAS DAVIS. Edited by T. W. Rolleston. 
48 SPENCE’S ANECDOTES. Edited by John Underhill, 
49 MORE’S UTOPIA, Edited by Maurice Adams, 





The CAMELOT SERIES may be had in the following Bindings:—Cloth, cut 
edges, 1s.; Cloth, uncut edges, 1s.; Half-Morocco, gilt top, antique (in a variety of 
new reproductions of old tints); Red Roan, gilt edges, 3s. 





-5 


THE 


CANTERBURY POETS. 


A NEW COMPREHENSIVE EDITION OF THE POETS. 


Edited by WILLIAM SHARP. 


Introductions by HON. RoDEN NogEr, 


Mrs. SYDNEY DOBELL, ERNEST Ruys, JOHN ADDINGTON SyMONDs, 
JOsEPH SKIPSEY, Countess MARTINENGO-CESARESCO, 
S. WADDINGTON, etc., etc. 


IN*SHILLING VOLUMES, SQUARE 8vo. 
Strongly Bound in Cloth. Each Volume contains from 300 to 350 pages. 


Cloth, Red Edges, 1s.; Cloth, Uncut Edges, 1s.; Red Roan, Gilt Edges, 2s. 6d.; 
~ Padded Morocco, Gilt Edges, 5s.; and in Half Morocco, Gilt Top, 
Antique (in a variety of new reproductions of old tints). 





THE FOLLOWING VOLUMES ARE NOW READY. 


1 CHRISTIAN YEAR 

2 COLERIDGE 

3 LONGFELLOW 

4 CAMPBELL 

5 SHELLEY 

6 WORDSWORTH 

7 BLAKE 

8 WHITTIER 

9 POE 

10 CHATTERTON 

11 BURNS. Songs. 

12 BURNS. Poems. 

13 MARLOWE 

14 KEATS 

15 HERBERT 

16 VICTOR HUGO 

17 COWPER 

18 SHAKESPEARE. Songs, 

Poems, and Sonnets. 

19 EMERSON 
zo SONNETS or Tu1s CENTURY 
21 WHITMAN 
22 SCOTT. Lady of the Lake, etc. 
23 SCOTT. Marmion, etc. 

24 PRAED. 

25 HOGG 

26 GOLDSMITH 

27 LOVE LETTERS OF A 

VIOLINIST, etc. 

28 SPENSER 

29 CHILDREN OF THE POETS 
30 BEN JONSON 

31 BYRON. Miscellaneous. 

32 BYRON. Don Juan, etc. 

33 SONNETS OF EUROPE 





34 ALLAN RAMSAY 

35 SYDNEY DOBELL 

30 POPE | 

37 HEINE 

38 BEAUMONT & FLETCHER 
39 BOWLES, LAMB, etc. 

40 SEA MUSIC 

41 EARLY ENGLISH POETRY 
42 HERRICK 

43 BALLADS AND RONDEAUS 
44 IRISH MINSTRELSY 

45 PARADISE LOST 

40 JACOBITE BALLADS 

47 DAYS OF THE YEAR 
48 AUSTRALIAN BALLADS 
49 MOORE 

50 BORDER BALLADS 

31 PHILIP B. MARSTON 

52 HORACE 

53 OSSIAN 

34 ELFIN MUSIC 

55 SOUTHEY 

56 CHAUCER 

&7 GOLDEN TREASURY 

38 POEMS OF WILD LIFE 
59 PARADISE REGAINED 
60 CRABBE 

61 DORA GREENWELL 

62 GOETHE’S FAUST 

63 AMERICAN SONNETS 
64 LANDOR’S POEMS 

6s; GREEK ANTHOLOGY 
66 HUNT AND HOOD 

67 HUMOROUS POEMS 

68 LYTTON’S PLAYS 





London: WALTER SCOTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 





— —eeEO7' as 4 . SL ee 
. , ss : ae 
a — as . - Af 
4 i PY ee - on 
‘ = 


6 


NEW PRESENTATION VOLUMES. 
The “WINDSOR SERIES” of Poetical Anthologies, 


Printed on Antique Paper. Crown 8vo. Bound in Blue Cloth, 
each with suitable Emblematic Design on Cover, Price 35. 6d. 


t Women’s Voices. An Anthology of the most 
Characteristic Poems by English, Scotch, and Irish Women, Edited 
by Mrs. William Sharp. 


Sonnets of this Century. With an Exhaustive 
Critical Essay on the Sonnet. Edited by William Sharp. 


The Children of the Poets. An Anthology from 
English and American Writers of Three Centuries. Edited by 
Professor Eric S. Robertson. 


Sacred Song. A Volume of Religious Verse. 


Selected and arranged, with Notes, by Samuel Waddington. 


A Century of Australian Bins Selected and 
Edited by Douglas B. W. Sladen, B.A., Oxon. 


Jacobite Songs and Ballads. Selected and 
Edited, with Notes, by G. S. Macquoid. 


Irish Minstrelsy. Edited, with Notes and Intro- 
duction, by H. Halliday Sparling. 

The Sonnets of Europe. A Volume of Trans- 
lations. Selected and arranged by Samuel Waddington. 


Early English and Scottish Poetry. Selected 
and Edited, with Introduction, by H. Macaulay Fitzgibbon. 


Ballads of the North Countrie. Edited, with 


Introduction, by Graham R. Tomson. 


Songs and Poems of the Sea. An Anthology of 
Poems Descriptive of the Sea. Edited by Mrs. Sharp. 


2 Songs and Poems of Fairyland. An Anthology 
of English Fairy Poetry. Selected by A. E. Waite. 


1% Songs and Poems of the Great Dominion. 
Edited by W. D. Lighthall, of Montreal. 


The above may also be had in various Calf and Morocco Bindings, 


Nv 


WwW 


b 


wi 


fo) 


~“ 


ie. °) 


© 


I 


e) 


a 


I 





London: WALTER ScoTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 





THE OXFORD LIBRARY. 


Handsomely Bound in Blue Cloth, Gut Top, Uncut Edges, 
Price 2s. each. 


Comprises the most popular Novels of Scort, Dickens, LyTron, 


Marryat, LEVER, etc., and original Stories by New Authors. 


1 BARNABY RUDGE 

2 OLD CURIOSITY SHOP 

3 PICKWICK PAPERS 

4 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

5 OLIVER TWIST 

6 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT 

7 SKETCHES BY BOZ 

8 RODERICK RANDOM 

9 PEREGRINE PICKLE 

10 IVANHOE 

ir KENILWORTH 

12 JACOB FAITHFUL 

13 PETER SIMPLE 

14 PAUL CLIFFORD 

15 EUGENE ARAM 

16 ERNEST MALTRAVERS 
17 ALICE; or, THE MYSTERIES 
18 RIENZI 

19 PELHAM 

20 LAST DAYS OF POMPEII 
21 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS 
22 WILSON’S TALES 
23 THE INHERITANCE 
24 ETHEL LINTON 
25 A MOUNTAIN DAISY 
26 HAZEL; or, Perilpoint Lighthouse 





27 VICAR OF WAKEFIELD 

28 PRINCE of the Housz or DAVID 
29 WIDE, WIDE WORLD 

30 VILLAGE TALES 

31 BEN-HUR 

32 UNCLE TOM’S CABIN 

33 ROBINSON CRUSOE 

34 THE WHITE SLAVE 

35 CHARLES O’MALLEY 

36 MIDSHIPMAN EASY 

37 BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 
38 HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 
39 LAST OF THE BARONS 

40 OLD MORTALITY 

41 TOM CRINGLE’S LOG 

42 CRUISE OF THE MIDGE 


43 COLLEEN BAWN 


44 VALENTINE VOX 

45 NIGHT AND MORNING 

46 BUNYAN 

47 FOXE’S BOOK or MARTYRS 
48 MANSFIELD PARK 

49 LAST OF THE MOHICANS 
50 POOR JACK 

51 THE LAMPLIGHTER 

52 JANE EYRE 


The above may also be had in half morocco, 





London: WALTER ScOTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row, 


REWARD BOOKS. 


2s. 62. Plain Edees; 3s. Gilt Edges. Each Crown 8v0, 
Cloth Gilt, Bevelled Boards. 


t LIVES GREAT AND SIMPLE 

2 QUEENS OF LITERATURE 

3 OUR AMERICAN COUSINS 

4 LIFE or GENERAL GORDON 

5 OUR QUEEN 

6 CONDUCT AND DUTY 

7 NEW WORLD HEROES 

8 LIFE OF GARIBALDI 

9 LIFE OF DR. MOFFAT 

10 LIFE OF W. E. GLADSTONE 

11 LIFE AND WORK OF LORD 
BEACONSFIELD 

12 LIFE or RICHARD COBDEN 

13 LIFE OF JOHN BRIGHT 

14 LIFE OF H. W. BEECHER 

15 LIFE or DR. LIVINGSTONE 

16 LIFE OF GRACE DARLING 

17 FAMOUS ENGINEERS 

18 THE VICAR or WAKEFIELD 

19 THE PRINCE oF THE HOUSE 
OF DAVID 

20 THE BOOK OF MARTYRS 

21 THE PILGRIM’S PROGRESS 
AND HOLY WAR 

22 THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD 

23 VILLAGE TALES 

24 BEN-HUR 

25 GOLDEN GLEAMS 

26 MEMORABLE SHIPWRECKS 

27 TALES AND SKETCHES OF 
THE COVENANTERS 

28 UNCLE TOM’S CABIN 





29 ROBINSON CRUSOE 

30 ELIJAH, THE DESERT 
PROPHET 

31 THE YOUNG WOMAN’S 
FRIEND 

32 THE YOUNG MAN’S 
FRIEND 

33 CHRISTIAN HEROINES 

34 THE ANGELS’ WHISPERS 

35 A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP 

36 IVANHOE 

37 JACOB FAITHFUL 

38 ETHEL LINTON 

39 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS 

40 MOUNTAIN DAISY 

41 HAZEL; OR, PERILPOINT 
LIGHTHOUSE 

42 BARNABY RUDGE 

43 OLD CURIOSITY SHOP 

44 PICKWICK PAPERS 

45 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 

46 OLIVER TWIST 

47 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT 

48 SKETCHES BY BOZ 


49 HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN > 


50 OLD MORTALITY 


51 TALES OF THE BORDERS 


52 VALENTINE VOX 

53 CHARLES O’MALLEY 

54 CRUISE OF THE MIDGE 
55 UNA MONTGOMERY 


The above can also be had bound in half morocco. 





London: WALTER ScotT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 





: 
wh toes ee. eo 








“39 


THE NOVOCASTRIAN SERIES. 





POPULAR VOLUMES OF FICTION. 


SQUARE 8vo. PRICE ONE SHILLING EACH. 


Cashel Byron’s Profession. By G. Bernard Shaw. 
The Ugly Story of Miss Wetherby. By Richard 


Pryce, Author of ‘* An Evil Spirit,” etc. 


A Witness from the Dead, (A Special Reporter’s 
Story.) By Florence Layard. 


Police Sergeant C 21: The Story of a Crime. By 


Reginald Barnett. (25th Thousand.) 


The Devil's Whisper. By the Author of “ Police 


- Sergeant C 21.” 


The Kara Yerta Tragedy. An Australian Romance. 


By J. E. Harrison, (15th Thousand.) 


The Policeman’s Lantern: Strange Stories of 
London Life. By James Greenwood, ‘‘ The Amateur Casual.” 


Mysteries and Adventures. By A. Conan Doyle. 
Author of ** Micah Clarke.” 


Oak- Bough and Wattle-Blossom: Stories and 
Sketches by Australiansin England. Edited by A. Patchett Martin. 


Mrs. Campbell Praed, C. Haddon Chambers, Douglas B, W, Sladen, Philip 
Mennell, Edmund Stansfeld Rawson, 8. Oldmixon. 


Jack Dudley’s Wife. By E. M. Davy, Author of 


*¢A Prince of Como,” etc, 


Vane’s Invention: An Electrical Romance. By 
Walter Milbank. 





London: WALTER ScoTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 





10 


RECENT VOLUMES OF VERSE. 
Edition de Luxe. Crown 4to, on Antique Paper, Price 12s, 6d, — 


SONNETS OF THIS CENTURY. 
Edited, with Exhaustive Critical Introduction, 


By WILLIAM SHARP. 


Parchment Limp. Second Edition. Price 35. 


ROMANTIC BALLADS AND POEMS 
OF PHANTASY. 


By WILLIAM SHARP. 
Crown 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled Boards, Price 3s. 6d. each. 


IN FANCY” DRESS. 


‘TT JIS THYSELY: 
By MARK ANDRE RAFFALOVICH. 
Parchment Limp, 35. 


DEATH’S DISGUISES anp OTHER SONNETS. 
By FRANK T. MARZIALS. 
Crown 8v0, Cloth, Price 35. 6d. 


CAROLS, SONGS, AND BALLADS. 
By JOSEPH SKIPSEY. 


Cloth Gilt, Price 3s. 


LAST YEAR’S LEAVES. 
By JOHN JERVIS.BERESFORD, M.A. 


Square 8vo0, Cloth, Price 2s. 6d. 


LAYS OF THE HIGHLANDS AND 


ISLANDS. 
By JOHN STUART BLACKIE, 
Emeritus Professor of Greek in the University of Edinburgh. 


Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt, Price 3s. 6d. 


BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 
By GEORGE ROBERTS HEDLEY. 





London : WALTER SCOTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 





“Ul 
BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG. 


F' cap. 8v0, Cloth Elegant, Plain Edges, 1s. 6d. Gilt Edges, 2s. 


An Admirable Series for the Family or for School Libraries. 
Splendidly Illustrated, 





Miss Matty; or, Our Youngest Passenger. By 
Mrs. George Cupples, And other Tales, Illustrated. 


Horace Hazelwood; or, Little Things. By R. 


Hope Moncrieff. And other Tales. Illustrated. 


Found Afloat. By Mrs. George Cupples. And 


other Tales. Illustrated. 


The White Roe of Glenmere. By Mrs. Bickerstaffe. 


And other Tales. Illustrated. 


Jessie Oglethorpe: The Story of a Daughter's 


Devotion. By W. H. D. Adams. And other Tales, Illustrated. 


Paul and Marie, the Orphans of Auvergne. And 


other Tales. Illustrated. 


Archie Mason: An Irish Story. By Letitia 


M‘Clintock. And other Tales. Illustrated. 
The Woodfords: An Emigrant Story. By Mrs. 


Cupples. And other Tales, Illustrated. 


Old Andy’s Money: An Irish Story. By Letitia 
M‘Clintock, And other Tales. Ilustrated. 


Marius Flaminius: A Story of the Days of Hadrian. 
By A. J. Buckland, And other Tales. Illustrated. 


The Inundation of the Rhine. From the German. 
And other Tales. Illustrated. 


The Little Orphans. From the German. And 


other Tales. Illustrated. 


Select Christian Biographies. By Rev. James 


Gardner, A.M., M.D. Illustrated. 


Leoline; or, Captured and Rescued. By Emily 


Grace Harding. 


Life of David Livingstone. By J. Donald, F.R.G.S. 





London : WALTER ScoTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 


Pe eA ee 





12 


BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG—(contenued). 


SHILLING REWARD BOOKS. Foolscap 8vo, Cloth Gilt. 
By E. STUART PHELPS. 


GYPSY BREYNTON. 

GYPSY’S COUSIN JOY. In which Joy comes to Yorkbury. 

GYPSY’S SOWING AND REAPING. Which concerns Gypsy and Tom. 

GYPSY’S YEAR AT THE GOLDEN CRESCENT. In which Gypsy 
goes to Boarding School. 





Foolscap 8vo, Cloth Boards, price One Shilling each. 


VERY SHORT STORIES AND VERSES 
FOR CHILDREN. 
By Mrs. W. K. CLIFFORD, Author of *‘ Anyhow Stories,” etc. 
ILLUSTRATED BY EDITH CAMPBELL, 





A NEW 


NATURAL HISTORY OF BIRDS, BEASTS, 
AND FISHES. 
By JOHN K. LEYS, M.A. 


LIFE STORIES OF FAMOUS CHILDREN. 


Adapted from the French. By the Author of ‘‘ Spenser for Children.” 








Parchment Limp, Price Sixpence. 


PARENTAL COMMANDMENTS; 


Or, Warnings to Parents on the Physical, Intellectual, and Moral 
Training of their Children. 





Square 8vo, Cloth Gilt, price One Shilling. 


A CHRISTMAS CA ROT 


Being a Ghost Story of Christmas. By Charles Dickens, 





Paper Cover, Price Sixpence. 


HELEN’S*BASTES: 


With some account of their ways—Innocent, Crafty, Angelic, Impish, 
Witching, and Repulsive; also a Partial Record of their Actions 
during Ten Days of their Existence. 


By THEIR LATEST VICTIM. 





London: WALTER ScortT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 








Fourth and Revised Edition. Illustrated. 3s. 6d. Cloth. 


The Land of the Vikings; a Popular Guide to 


Norway. By C. Jurgenson. Containing Maps, Skeleton Routes, Tables, 
and all information useful to Tourists. 


Crown 8yo, Cloth Limp, Map and Illustrations, Price 3s. 6d. 


Guide to Copesmagert and Its Environs. By Lucy 


Andersen, author of ‘‘ A Holiday in Italy.” 
Crown 8vo, Paper Cover, Price 6d. Numerous Illustrations. 


Newcastle-on-Tyne of To-Day. A Descriptive 
and Historical Guide. By W. W. Tomlinson. 


Compact and Practical Phrase Books. Cloth Limp, 1s. each. 


The European Conversation Books. No. 1—French; 
No. 2—ITALIAN; No. 3—SPANISH (in preparation); No. 4-GERMAN 
(in preparation). 
ConTENTS :—Hints to Travellers—Arriving and Leaving a Station—In a 
Railway Train—At a Restaurant—At an Hotel—Washing—Paying Hotel 
Bill—Telegrams and Letters—Enquiries—On Board Ship, etc., etc. 


Just Published, Crown 8vo, Price ls. 6d. 
Guide to Emigration and Colonisation: An Appeal 


to the Nation. By Waldemar Bannow, upwards of Highteen Years a resident 
of Victoria, Australia. 


Crown 8vo, Price One Shilling. 


The Emigrant’s Handbook to the British Colonies. 


By Waldemar Bannow. 
Price, Paper Boards, 2s. 6d., Cloth, 3s. 6d. 


The Law of Compensation under the Agricultural 
Holdings (England) Act, 1883, By Charles D. Forster, Solicitor, 
Newcastle-on-Tyne. 

Price 2s. 6d. 


Handy Guide to Conveyancing Costs under the 
Solicitors’ Remuneration Act, 1881. By J. Hough. 


Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price One Shilling. 


Elocution. (With Select Recitations.) By T. R. 


Walton Pearson, M.A., of St. Catharine’s College, Cambridge, and Frederic 
William Waithman, Lecturer on Elocution in the Leeds and Bradford 
Institutes, 

Demy 16mo, Price Sixpence. 


Lowes’s Shorthand (Pitman Superseded: Taylor 


Improved), for acquiring in half-an-hour the method of taking down 
Speeches, etc., without the aid of a master. 





London: WALTER ScoTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 


14 
GUIDE AND HAND-BOOKS—(contenued), 


Crown 8vo, Paper Cover, Price Sixpence. 


The Turkish Bath: its History and Use. By 
Frederick ©. Coley. 
Crown 8vo, Price One Shilling. 


Plain Facts about Infant Feeding and Management, 
Popular Treatise by C. Stennett Redmond, L.K.Q.C.P.L & L.R.C.S.L 
Demy 8vo, Price One Shilling. 


Eye Diseases: What the Public should Know of 


Them. Two Lectures delivered at the Northumberland, Durham, and 
Newcastle Infirmary for Diseases of the Eye. By OC. 8. Jeaffreson, F.R.C.8.E., 


F.R.M.S. 
Sixteenth Thousand, Demy 8vo, Price Sixpence. 


The Ear: Its Structure, Mechanism, and connection 
with the Throat. By Richard Bllis, F.R.C.S. 
Tenth Thousand, Royal 8vo, 62 pp., Price 6d. 
The Doctor's Corner. By R. Clark Newton, 
M.S., L.M., M.R.O.S.L 
Price One Shilling. 
Villa and Cottage Gardening. Specially adapted 
for Scotland, Northern England, and Ireland. By Alexander Swee 
Square 8vo, Parchment Limp, Price Sixpence each. 
Don’t: Directions for avoiding Improprieties in 
Conduct and Common Errors of Speech. 


Why Smoke and Drink? By James Parton. 





THE EVERY-DAY HELP SERIES. 


Demy 82mo, 126 pages, Price 6d. each. 


How to do Business. A. Pocket Manual of 
Practical Affairs and Guide to Success in Life. 


How to Behave. A Pocket Manual of Etiquette. 


How to Write. A Pocket Manual of Composition 
and Letter Writing. 
Demy 32mo, Price Fourpence. 
How to Debate. A Manual for Mutual Improve- 


ment Societies, with Hints on Public Speaking, and a list of subjects; suitable 
for discussion. 


Now Ready. Post Quarto, Price Sixpence. 


The Ladies’ National Housekeepers Book, for 


any Year. 





- é 
London: WALTER Scort, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 








ho a) ns re 


ee 


LOCAL PUBLICATIONS. 





3 Vols. Royal 8vo. Price 12s, 6d. each. 


CHRONOLOGICAL HISTORY OF NEWCASTLE 
AND GATESHEAD, 15TH TO 17TH CENTURIES 


‘By RICHARD WELFORD. 





Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 5s., 433 Pages. 
NEWCASTLE TOWN. 
By R. J. CHARLETON., [Illustrations by R. JOBLING, 





With Four Maps, Crown 8vo, 574 Pages, Strongly Bound in Limp Cloth, Price 5s, 


NEW COMPREHENSIVE GUIDE TO THE 
COUNTY OF NORTHUMBERLAND. 


By W. W. TOMLINSON. 


This Guide is an exhaustive 4 eames of the interesting facts—historical, anti- 

quarian, and legendary—relating to the county. Greater  promepenee has been given to 

e iquities than in any previous work of the kind, and every care has been taken to 
describe them in the light of the most recent archzological research. 

The Guide includes lists of the principal Hills, Crags, Loughs, Lakes, Denes; 
Pre-Reformation Churches; Ancient British Camps, Castles, Pele-Towers, Roman 
Stations and Camps, Remains of Monastic Houses, as well as of the principal Hotels 
and Inns in the County, and is supplemented by a complete Index. 





Crown 8vo, Paper Cover, Price 6d. N umerous Illustrations. 
NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE OF TO-DAY. 
A DESCRIPTIVE AND HISTORICAL GUIDE. 

By W. W. TOMLINSON. 

Just Published, Crown 8vo, Price 1s. 6d. 


HEALTH RESORTS OF NORTHERN ENGLAND. 


By RICHARD ELLIS, F.R.C.S., Edin., Senior Surgeon, Newcastle-on-Tyne 
Throat and Ear Hospital. 


Crown Quarto, 48 Pages. Monthly 6d. Illustrated. 


MONTHLY CHRONICLE OF NORTH-COUNTRY 
LORE AND LEGEND. 


Established to preserve the wealth of Legend and Story of the North of England. 
ANNUAL SUBSCRIPTION, 7s. 6p., POST FREE. 


Crown 4to, Price Threepence. 
HISTORY OF THE DICKY BIRD SOCIETY. 


By UNCLE TOBY. 


With numerous Illustrations. Cover designed by ROBERT JOBLING, and printed 
in eleven colours. 














London : WALTER ScoTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 


NEW BOOKLETS. 


Bound in White Grained Boards, with Gilt Lettering. 
Price One Shilling Each, | 


WHERE LOVE IS THERE GOD IS ALSO. 
THE TWO PILGRIMS. 
WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


By Count Lro TotsTol. 


These Booklets form three Stories by Count Leo Tolstoi, the eminent 
Russian writer, whose recent work, entitled ‘* My Religion,” has produced 
such an impression in Europe and America. These little stories, issued in 
Russia as tracts for the people, possess all the grace, naiveté, and power which 
characterise the writings of Count Tolstoi; and while inculcating in the most 
penetrating way the fundamental Christian principles of love, humility, and 
charity, are perfect in their art-form as stories pure and simple. 





SQUARE 8v0, PRICE ONE SHILLING EACH. 


Cover Printed in Twelve Colours. 


MARY IN HEAVEWN, 


POEM BY ROBERT BURNS. 


SE A. # Ona: 


BY VARIOUS AUTHORS. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ROBERT JOBLING. 





London: WALTER ScorTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 








. 17 
THE ELSWICK SCIENCE SERIES. 


; The Elswick Series is intended to supply Teachers and Students with good 

books, void of ‘‘cram.” They will be issued as rapidly as is consistent with the 
caution necessary to secure accuracy. A great aim will be to adapt them to 
modern requirements and improvements, and to keep abreast with the latest 
discoveries in Science, and the most recent practice in Engineering. 


Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price 3s. 6d. each. 


PRACTICAL AND THEORETICAL TRIGONOMETRY. 
By HENRY EVERS, LL.D., Author of “Steam,” ete. 


MANUAL OF STEAM AND PRIME MOVERS. 
By HENRY EVERS, LL.D., Author of ‘‘ Steam,” ‘* Navigation,” etc. 
In Preparation. 
DESCRIPTIVE GEOMETRY. 
By T. N. EAGLES, M.A., Author of ‘ Constructive Geometry of Plane Curves.” 


SCIENCE LECTURES. 


Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price 1s, CONTENTS :— 


The Natural History of Instinct. By G. J. Romaues, F.R.S. 

Animal Life on the Ocean Surface. By Professor H. N. Moseley, M.A., F.R.S. 

The Eye and Its Work. By Litton Forbes, M.D., F.R.C.S.E., L.R.C.P. 

The Movements of Plants. By Ernest A Parkyn, M.A. 

The Relations Between Natural Science and Literature. By Professor H. 
Nettleship, M.A. 

Facts and Fictions in Zoology. By Dr. Andrew Wilson, F.R.S.E. 

The Animals that Make Limestone. By Dr. P. Herbert Carpenter, F.R.S. 


PAMPHLETS. 
THINK IT OUT! LECTURE ON HOME RULE. 
By Dr. THOMAS HODGKIN. Price Threepence. 


WEALTH AND WANT: 


A Refutation of Henry George’s ‘‘ Progress and Poverty.” Price Sixpence, 


CHRISTIAN SOCIALISM v. STATE SOCIALISM. 


The Penny Dinner Problem. Price Twopence. 


STATE SOCIALISM: A LATTER-DAY TYRANNY. 
By ELIJAH COPLAND. Price One Penny. 


: THE SEVEN PILLARS OF SOCIALISM: An INDICTMENT. 
By Rev. MARSDEN GIBSON, M.A. Price Twopence. 


A SCHEME FOR NATIONAL PENSIONS. 
By Rev. W. MOORE EDE, M.A. Crown 8vo, Price One Penny. 


THE GERMAN INSURANCE LAWS. 
By Rey. W. MOORE EDE, M.A. Crown, 8vo, Price One Penny. 





|: 
i 
§ 
| 
H 
; 
' 
ie 
' 





er rn 


Cerri ri 





LIL RE EL Si RI RED CR ie, BA eet BO 2st 





London: WALTER ScoTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 
2 


18 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


Complete in 24 Volumes, One Shilling each, strongly bound in Cloth. 
Uniform in size and style with the ‘‘ Camelot Series.” 


WILSON’S TALES OF THE BORDERS 
AND OF SCOTLAND. 
HISTORICAL, TRADITIONARY, AND IMAGINATIVE. 
REVISED By ALEXANDER LEIGHTON. 








NuMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS IN CHROMO-LITHOGRAPHY. 
Imperial 8vo, Cloth, 10s. 6d. each. 


LIFE AND EXPLORATIONS OF, 
Dr. LIVINGSTONE. 


ENGLAND UNDER VICTORIA. 
LIFE AND TIMES OF GARIBALDE 





Royal 8vo, Cloth, fully illustrated, Price 7s. 6d. 
LIFE OF GENERAL GORDON. 





Crown 8vo, 507 Pages, Cloth Gilt, Price 4s. 6d. 


FOR A SONG’S SAKE, AND OTHER STORIES. 
BY THE LATE PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON. ~ 
With a Memoir by William Sharp. 





NEW AND COMPLETE EDITION OF 


SCOTT’S BORDER ANTIQUITIES. 
Royal Folio. Half Morocco Antique, £5 5s. 


One Hundred Copper-plate Engravings of the Castles, Abbeys, Churches, 
Peles, and other Historical Remains of the Border Counties of Northumber- 
land, Cumberland, Westmoreland, Roxburgh, Haddington, Fife, Selkirk, 
Stirling, mostly from paintings by Luke Clennell. 


WITH INTRODUCTION, DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES, AND VERSES, 
{ By SIR WALTER SCOTT. 





Demy 8vo, Cloth, Illustrated. Price 3s. 6d. 


LO SETHE |G Dw ie dee 
SKETCHES OF A TRIP TO SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA, 
By SAMUEL STOREY, M.P. 





London : WALTER SCOTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 





‘ 











NEW SERIES OF BISOU BOOKS. 


Crown 32mo0. Price Sixpence each. 


Printed on good Paper, with red line borders, and Bound in 


Cloth Limp, full Gilt Side, and in Parchment Limp. 





Cheery Lays for Dreary Days. 

Songs in the House of our Pilgrimage. 

God’s Greetings in Nature and Man’s Responses. 
Bijou Thoughts for Busy Moments. 


Helpful Counsels for those who wish to make Progress in the 
Life of Holiness. 


Suggestive Thoughts for Meditative Minds. 


Sketches by Great Masters, of Scenes, Places, and Persons, 
taken from Standard Authors. ' 


The Compliments of the Season; or, Words for all Times. 


On Business Only. Little Illustrations and Suggestions 


regarding Business Qualifications and Successes. A Book relating 
to Work. 


Home, Sweet Home. Lyrics and Songs on Home and 
Family Life. 


In Fun and in Earnest. Selections in Prose and Verse, 
chiefly humorous. 


Golden Sands from the German Ocean of Thought. Selec- 


tions from German Authors, Ancient and Modern. 
The Land o’ the Leal, and other Songs. 
Bible Thoughts for all Times. 
Golden Thoughts from the New Testament. 
Gleanings from the Thoughts of General Gordon. 


Sayings of roo Great Men in Praise of Books. Edited by E. 
W. COLE. 


The Funniest Book but One. 200 Gems of Fun. Edited by 
E. W. Cote. ; 





7 _ Also in Sets of Six, Strong Cloth and Fancy Paper Boxes - 8s. 6d. 





London: WALTER SCOTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 





1/- BOOKS IN PAPER COVERS. 


THE WORLD OF CANT, © 
(120 THOUSAND.) 


Daily Telegraph.— Decidedly a book with a purpose.” 
Scotsman.—‘* A vigorous, clever, and almost ferocious exposure, in the form 


of a story, of the numerous shams and injustices.” 


MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. 


By ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER. 


OUR AMERICAN COUSINS. 
By W. E. ADAMS. : 


‘The author brings to his work acute penetration, a keen observation, a graphic _ 
picturesque style of presenting his impressions, and a quiet humour that finds 
expression in quoting amusing scraps from newspaper stories and sayings that 
aptly illustrate the case in point.”—New York Herald. 


MEN AND WOMEN OF THE DAY. 
By LILLIE HARRIS. [50th Thousand. 


‘* The esthetic, social, and other ‘fashions’ of the young lady of the day are 
dealt with in a very trenchant and effective manner, and though the satire is some- 
times severe, it is withal good-natured and genial. The amusements, manners, 
flirtations, reading, etc., of the sex come in for a good deal of kindly criticism, 
and the author seems to have had a deal of experience of the matters on which she 
writes. This little work will prove not only interesting but instructive reading 
to those concerned ; and may possibly prove of interest to our ‘ young gentlemen 
also.” —Service Gazette. 

















AN EXILE’S ROMANCE. | 
By ARTHUR KEYSER. [5¢h Edition, . 


THE REFUGEES OF MARTINIQUE. 
By EUGENE SUE. 


A BOOK OF BLUNDERS. 


By Rev. D. MACRAE. 


THE-BEST WAY TO GET ON@ 


A PRACTICAL GUIDE TO MONEY MAKING AND MONEY 
: SPENDING. 














London: WALTER SCOTT, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 











ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BOOKS. 





A Book of Blunders. By Rev. D. Macrae. Crown | 


8vo, Paper Cover, Is. 


A Christmas Carol. By Charles Dickens. Square 


8vo, Cloth, Is. 


An Exile’s Romance. By Arthur Keyser. Crown 


8vo, Paper Cover, Is. 


Angels’ Whispers. By Daniel C. Eddy, D.D. 
Crown 8vo, Cloth, 2s. 6d. 


Australian Song, A Century of. (Sia Winder Series.) 
- Ballads of the North Countrie. (See Windsor Series.) 


Beaconsfield, Earl of. His Life and Work. By 


Lewis Apjohn Crown 8vo, Cloth, with Photograph, 2s. 6d. 
New Edition. 30th Thousand. 


** A careful, and on the whole an impartial narrative of the facts in the 
career of the man it describes.” —Scotsman. 


Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ. By Lew. Wallace. 
Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt, 2s. 6d. 


Beresford, John Jervis, M.A. Last Year’s Leaves. 
Poems. Cloth Gilt, 3s. 
‘*Mr. Beresford’s subjects are many and varied, and he displays a ready 


versatility in adapting his strains to the most opposite themes.”— Zhe 
Morning Post. 


Blind, Mathilde. The Heather on Fire: A Tale, 


in Verse, of the Highland Clearances. Square 8vo, Paper 
Cover, 1s., Cloth, 1s. 6d. 


** Remarkable for beauty of expression and pathos of incidents.” —Leeds 
Mercury. 


22 


Bijou Books— 


Bible Thoughts for all Times. 

Bijou Thoughts for Busy Mo- 
ments. 

Cheery Lays for Dreary Days. 

Gleanings from the Thoughts 
of General Gordon. 

God’s Greetings in Nature and 
Man’s Responses. 

Golden Sands from the German 
Ocean of Thought. Selections 
from German Authors, Ancient 
and Modern. 

Golden Thoughts from the New 
Testament. 

Helpful Counsels for those who 
wish to make Progress in a Life of 
Holiness. 


Home, Sweet Home. Lyrics 


and Songs on Home and Family . 


Life. 


Crown 32mo, Cloth Limp, full gilt sides, 6d. ; 
in strong cloth case, 3s. 6d. ; also in ” parchment. 


Book of Martyrs. By 


Apjohn. 
25th Thousand. 


** Ts full of interest and instruction for all who desire to understand the . 
political forces in operation about them.” —Liverpool Mercury. 


Camelot Series, The. 
Cloth, cut or uncut edges. 


Autocrat at the Breakfast Table, The. 


Holmes. 


Browne, Sir Thomas, Religio Medici, Urn-Burial, Christian 
With Introduction by J. Addington Symonds. 


‘‘ The whole contents of this volume are delightful, and the excellent — 
introduction by Mr. Symonds is all that could be desired. ‘North 


Morals, etc. 


British Daily Mail, 


Burns’s Letters. 





John Foxe. 
Cloth, Bevelled Boards, Illustrated, 2s. 6d. q 


Bright, John, and the Peace Party. 
Crown 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled Boards, with Photo, 2s. 6d. 


Monthly Shilling Volumes. 


Selected and arranged, with Introduction, 
by J. Logie Robertson, M.A. 


“Should be read by all those who have hitherto dananal their 
estimate of Burns’s genius from his poems only.” —Literary World. A 























In Fun and in Earnest. : 
tions in Prose and Verse, ch 
humorous. om 

On Business Only. Little I] 
trations and Suggestions regar 
Business Qualifications and _ 
cesses. A Book relating to Work. | 

Sayings of 1:00 Great Men in ~ 
Praise of Books. Edited by E. Cole. — 

Sketches by Great Masters, of 
Scenes, Places, and Persons, taken — 
from Standard Authors. 

Songs in the House of. oe 
Pilgrimage. 

Suggestive Thoughts for Medi-,_ 
tative Minds. : 

The Compliments of the Seas 
or, Words for all Times. _ 

The Funniest Book but On 
Gems of Fun. Edited by E. Cole. — 

The Land o’ the Leal, and ours | 


Songs 


/ ey 


also in Sets of Six, 
Crown oan 


By Lewis” ; 


+? 





i 
By Oliver Wendell 


cf, 
a = 


23 





Camelot Series—continued. 


Byron’s Letters and Journals. Selected, with Introduction, 
by Mathilde Blind. 


** A charming volume, heralded by a vigorous and sensible intro- 
duction.” —Atheneum. 


Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, with Levana, the 
Rosicrucians and Freemasons, etc. By Thomas De Quincey. 
With Introductory Note by William Sharp. 

‘** There has never previously been issued at the price so excellent 
an edition of De Quincey’s chef d’euvre.” 


Defoe’s Captain Singleton. Edited, with Introduction, by 

H. Halliday Sparling. 

** The sketch of Defoe’s life, indeed, is a model of what such work 
should be—succinct, businesslike, and entirely free from fine writing.” 
—Atheneum. 

Democratic Vistas, and other Papers. By Walt Whitman. 

(Published by arrangement with the author.) : 

** Next to the ‘ Preface’ to Leaves of Grass, Democratic Vistas is 
quite the best thing Whitman has produced in prose.” —Academy. 


Emerson, Select Writings of. With Introduction by Percival 
Chubb. 


**In this volume we have most that is characteristic of the writings 
of Emerson. . . . Mr. Chubb gives a fair and candid estimate of his 
(Emerson’s) undoubted worth.” —Dazly Free Press. 


English Prose, from Maundeville to Thackeray. Chosen and 
edited by Arthur Galton. 


** This is an admirable selection, made with good judgment, and a 
taste catholic enough to include specimens from all really represen- 
tative masters of English prose.’”’— Scotsman. 


Epictetus (The Teaching of): being the “ Encheiridion of 
Epictetus,” with Selections from the “ Dissertations” and 
“Fragments.” Translated from the Greek, with Introduc- 
tion and Notes, by T. W. Rolleston. 


*€Mr. Rolleston has done his work in scholarly fashion. ... We 
commend this little volume to all who care to acquaint themselves 
with the finest fruits of the natural theology of the ancient world.” — 
Manchester Guardian. 


Essays of Dr. Johnson, with Biographical Introduction and 
Notes by Stuart J. Reid. 


‘* This is an excellent volume; .. . it gives a very good idea of 
the immortal doctor’s prose style.” —Cambriage Independent. 


Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry. Edited and 
Selected by W. B. Yeats. 


** The reader has here a collection of Irish tales drawn from the 
best sources,” —A¢heneum. 


Camelot Series—continued. 


Great English Painters. Selected Biographies from Allan 
Cunningham’s Lives of Eminent British Painters. Edited 
by William Sharp. 

‘‘The lives of Hogarth, Wilson, Reynolds, Gainsborough, and 
Blake form Mr. Sharp’s choice, and nothing could be better.”— 
Saturday Review. 


Great Musical Composers. By G. F. Ferris. Edited, with 


Introduction, by Mrs. William Sharp. 
“¢ All lovers of music will hail the appearance of Great Composers 
in the ‘ Camelot Series.’”—Dundee Advertiser. 


Hazlitt, Williani, Essays of. Selected and Edited, with 


Introduction and Notes, by Frank Carr. 
A delightful selection of William Hiazlitt’s essays.”—Lzterary 


World. 


Heine, Heinrich, the Prose Writings of. With Introduction 


by Havelock Ellis. 
‘‘Mr. Havelock Ellis has done his work earnestly and care- 


fully, and gives us an excellent account of Heine’s life and pursuits.” - 


— Graphic. 
Hunt, Leigh, Essays by. With Introduction and Notes by 
Arthur Symons. 


‘No pleasanter book has been issued for a long while than this 
selection of Essays.”—Ox/ford Review. 


Jane Eyre. By Charlotte Bronté. 


Landor’s Imaginary Conversations. Selected, with Intro- 
duction, by Havelock Ellis. 
‘‘ Those who may now read these charming talks for the first time 
will be glad of the opportunity of purchasing them in this cheap and 
accessible form.” —Ox/ford Times. 


Landor’s Pentameron, and other Imaginary Conversations. 
Edited, with a Preface, by Havelock Ellis. 
‘* Of all the series (of Imaginary Conversations) it is probable that 
a consensus of educated opinion would place the ‘ Pentameron’ as 
the richest and best in many ways.”—Glasgow Herald. 


Lord Chesterfield’s Letters to his Son. Selected, with Intro- 
duction, by Charles Sayle. 
“*. . . The graces of life are not everything, but they are a very 
great deal, and Chesterfield is their most effective expounder.”— 
Literary World, 


Lord Herbert, Autobiography of. Edited, with an Introduc- 
tion, by Will H. Dircks. 

“In the ‘Camelot Series’ we have the Autobiography of Lord 
Herbert of Cherbury, edited by Mr, Will H. Dircks, whose prefatory 
essay contains all that is needed to introduce a popular edition of a 
famous book.” —Saturday Review. 





“<n 





nea Me Ur 


ee Ye 





25 


Camelot Series—continued. 


Longfellow’s “ Hyperion,” “ Kavanah,” and “The Trouveres.” . 
With Introduction by W. Tirebuck. 


‘* The introductory notice is written with keen critical insight, and, 
though brief, presents a thoroughly appreciative and just estimate of 
Longfellow.” —Aberdeen Free Press. 


Malory’s Romance of King Arthur and the Quest of the 


Holy Grail. (From the Morte de Arthur.) Edited by 


Ernest Rhys. 


“* An excellent selection for the opening volume of a cheap series of 
prose classics. Permanently valuable, well printed, andcarefully edited, 
these classics are a marvel of cheapness.” — Cambridge Independent. 


Marcus Aurelius, The Meditations of. Edited by Alice 
Zimmern. 


** On the whole, we should rank this first of the complete English 
translations of Aurelius.” —C/assical Review. — 


Mazzinis Essays: Literary, Political, and Religious. With 
Introduction by William Clarke. 

‘* To say that this little volume forms one of the ‘Camelot Series’ 
is sufficient guarantee for the neatness of its binding and the clearness 
of its type. We have to thank the editor for the service he has done 
to English literature in bringing Mazzini within the reach of all,”— 
Oxford Review. 


My Study Windows. By James Russell Lowell. With 
Introduction by R. Garnett, LL.D. 
** A charming edition of these essays.” — Yorkshire Fost. 


Pillars of Society, The, and other Plays. By Henrik Ibsen. 
Edited, with an Introduction, by Havelock Ellis. 

** Every competent reader of these dramas can see that Ibsen’s 
dramatic grasp of character is very great, and his faculty of drama- 
tising purely modern situations such as certainly no living English 
dramatists, and we think not even certain much-praised Frenchmen, 
possess.” —Manchester Guardian. 


Poe’s Tales and Essays. Edited, with Introduction, by 
Ernest Rhys. 

_“*, , » To those who are unacquainted with the writings of the 

gifted and eccentric American, it is almost impossible to describe 


their strange glamour of mystery and weird fascination.” —Dundee 
Advertiser. 


Political Orations, from Wentworth to Macaulay. Edited, 
with Introduction, by William Clarke. 


“The volume may serve as a valuable hand-book of British 
parliamentary eloquence.”—Ruskin Reading Guild Journal. 


ee 























Camelot Series—continued. 


Plutarch’s Lives (Langhorne). With Introductory 
B. J. Snell, M.A. - . 
‘* Well selected; and very helpful introduction.” ys ie 3 


Reynolds’s Discourses. With Introduction by 
Zimmern, 


‘* Miss Helen Zimmern edits the Discourses with a 
quite acceptable Introduction, in which the present val 
of Reynolds’s theory of art is fairly recognised.” —Satura 


Sartor Resartus. By Thomas Carlyle. 


by Ernest Rhys. i ; 
‘* By far the best of the cheap editions now before 
Newcastle Leader, 
Seneca, Selections from. With Introduce oF 
Clode. op huis 


“‘Tt is one of the most charming and in oaks 
* Camelot Series.’”—fall Mali Gazette. 


Shelley’s Essays and Letters. Edited, wath Introd 
Note, by Ernest Rhys. 


‘© One of the most interesting of the set... . Mr. Rhys has 
his work with care and intelligence.”—Zhe Graphic. 


Specimen Days in America. By Walt Whitman, 
revised by the Author, with fresh Preface and 
Note. 


good service in the aiiele of the North, and he recor 
experience,—very strange and startling experience, too.” —Speci 


Stories from Carleton. Selected, with Introductic 
W. Yeats. [September v 


‘Swift’s Prose Writings. Chosen and arranged by W. 1 
**There is a serviceable introduction by Mr. Walter Lewin, 
may be congratulated on the felicity of his: selection and arra 


of the pieces printed. The book is a wonderful shilling’ s-worth, 
Scotsman. “or 


The Lover, and other Papers of Steele and Addise 
Edited by Walter Lewin. 


** A book which every lover of first-class literature will weleome. 
Sheffield Independent. 


Thoreau’s Walden. With Introductory Note by will H 
Dircks. 9 aa 
** An introductory note by Mr. Will H. Dircks judiciously prepares ~ e. 


the mind of the reader for the enjoyment of the American trans- 
cendentalist.”—London Daily Chronicle. aa 


SAAR a 


STR Oi eee 











Fk Rl (ALE ALOE A Th 1 ARNEL) GGL RE RG A RB DN 
- . D d o . oe = 


ee 


a = LS ——EE 


ar: 


27 


Camelot Series—continued. 


Thoreau’s ‘*Week.” With Prefatory Note by Will H. 

Dircks. 

‘* With both ‘ Walden’ and the ‘ Week’ published in an easily 
accessible form, the English reading public have now an excellent 
opportunity of making themselves acquainted with Thoreau’s master- 
pieces, and estimating the value of his ethical creed.”—Fall Mall 
Gazelle. 


Vicar of Wakefield. By Oliver Goldsmith. Edited, with 
Preface, by Ernest Rhys. 
‘* This is a very neatly got-up edition of Goldsmith’s classic story. 
We know of no other edition which is at once so cheap, so well 
printed, and of so convenient a size.” —Ox/ford Review. 


Volsunga Saga: the Story of the Volsungs and Niblungs. 
Translated from the Icelandic by Eirikr Magnusson and 
William Morris. With Introduction and Notes by H. 
Halliday Sparling. 

‘* This unpretentious little volume is intended for the lover of poetry 
and nature rather than the student, that he may enjoy and wonder at 
this great work.” —Cambridge Chronicle. 


White’s Natural History of Selborne. With a Naturalist’s 
Calendar and additional Observations. With a Preface by 
Richard Jefferies. 

‘* The last published writing of Richard Jefferies is, we believe, the 
preface which he contributed to the excellent edition of White’s 
Selborne in the ‘ Camelot Series.’”—ail Mall Gazette. 


Canterbury Poets, The. Cloth, Red Edges, ts.; 
Cloth, Uncut Edges, Is. ; Red Roan, Gilt Edges, 2s. 6d. 


American Sonnets. Selected and edited by William Sharp. 

‘Mr. Sharp’s critical and explanatory introduction is good read- 

ing, and he deserves all praise for the rich literary dish he has 
provided.” —Dirmingham Daily Gazette. 


Australian Ballads and Rhymes. Poems inspired by Life 
and Scenery in Australia and New Zealand. Selected and 
edited by Douglas B. W. Sladen, B.A., Oxon. 

‘*Mr. Douglas Sladen’s pretty little volume is doubly welcome, 
not only as the first poetical anthology of the ‘youngest born of 
Britain’s great dominions,’ but for its pleasant introduction of the 
singers whose songs have made it up, and for a valuable study of 
Henry Kendall as a bush poet.” —Academy. 


Ballades and Rondeaus, Chants Royal, Sestinas, Villan- 
elles, etc. Selected, with chapter on the various forms, by 
J. Gleeson White. ; 
‘Mr. Gleeson White’s collection of Bal/ades and Rondeaus is a 
really delightful little book.” —/all Mail Gazette. 


Canterbury Poets—continued. 


28 


Beaumont and Fletchers Plays. Selected, with -an Intro- 
duction, by John S. Fletcher. 
** Any one who wishes to get some acquaintance of ‘the sweets’ of 
these dramatists without ‘the bitters,’ should give this little volume 
a place on their book-shelves.”—Ox/ford Review. 


Ben Jonson, Dramatic Works and Lyrics of. Selected, with 
Essay, Biographical and Critical, by John Addington 


Symonds. 


‘* A selection discreetly compounded and introduced by an admir- 
able biographical and critical preface.” —Saturday Review. 


Blake, Poems and Specimens from the Prose Writings of. | 


Edited, with Introductory Notice, by Joseph Skipsey. 


**It will delight every lover of Blake. The introductory sketch is 
one of the best we have read on the subject.—Sheffield Lndependent. 


Border Ballads. Selected and edited by Graham R. Tomson. 


‘“*The best ballads are here given us out of a wide selection. 


The introductory note is scholarly and appreciative.”— Yorkshire 


Advertiser. 


Bowles, Lamb, and Hartley Coleridge. Selected, with Intro- 
duction, by William Tirebuck. 


‘*The work has been well and sensibly done, and the little volume 
ought to be welcomed as giving us the works of three poets too little 
known nowadays; the preface is extremely good.” —Zhe Graphic. 


Burns.—Poems. With Biographical Sketch by Joseph 
Skipsey. 
Burns.—Songs. With Critical Estimate by Joseph Skipsey. 
“ The essays are valuable additions to Burns literature, and should 
be read by all who are admirers of the poet, and—for that matter— 
by all who are not.”—Derby Gazette. 
Byron. Vol. I—Childe Harold and Don Juan. Selected, 
with Introduction, by Mathilde Blind. 


Byron. Vol. II.—Miscellaneous. 


** A felicitous selection, prefaced by an appreciative biography of 
the poet.” —Oxford T; imes. 


Campbell. With Introductory Notice by John Hogben. 
_ “The introductory essay is all that such a notice should be. The 
little volume is a good one, and handy for the pocket.” — Zhe Graphic. 
Chatterton. With Prefatory Notice, Biographical and 
Critical, by John Richmond. 


bg The editor has done his work with care and skill, and the 
biographical and critical notice with which the volume opens is a 
model of what such articles should be.” —Glasgow Herald, 








Canterbury Poets-~continued. 
Chaucer. Selected and edited by Frederick Noél Paton. 


“¢ The introduction gives a readable sketch of Chaucer’s life, and 
the old English is so edited that a modern reader will find no diffi- 
culty in understanding it.” —Scotsman. 


Children of the Poets. An Anthology from English and 
American Writers of Three Centuries. Compiled by Eric 
S. Robertson. 
‘© A most delightful volume, the dest of the series, which is saying 
a great deal.” 


Christian Year. Thoughts in Verse for the Sundays and 
Holy Days throughout the Year. By Rev. John Keble, 
M.A. 


GS) MO BAD 16k A8 OBL ON PS DAA REA SON AAR A I BR NO ULNA ERNE , ‘ 
PR ROTARY | 
. . . - . ‘ _ tai ai: ll a ten 


Coleridge. With Introduction by Joseph Skipsey. 


‘The volume is edited with diligent care, and in the arrangement 
of the poems capital judgment and good taste are displayed.”— 
To-day. | 


Cowper. Selected, with Prefatory Notice, by Eva Hope. 


** Miss Hope has done her work well and sympathetically, and the 
collection is welcome.” —Graphic. 


Crabbe. With Prefatory Notice, Biographical and Critical, 
by Edward Lamplough. 
‘<The selection has been carefully made, and we do not doubt 


that, under his new appearance, the old poet will be to many a most 
welcome guest.”— Wales Observer. 


Days of the Year. A Poetic Calendar from the Works of 
Alfred Austin. Selected by A. S. With Introduction by 
William Sharp. 


‘* To all who care for sweet thoughts sweetly expressed ; to all who 
find melody and harmony in Nature, this daily remembrancer of the 
things that we delight in cannot fail to be a welcome companion,” — 
Standard. 


Dobell, Sydney. Selected, with Introductory Memoir, by 
Mrs. Dobell. 


**The exuberant fancy, grace, and passion of the poet are well 
illustrated by the selections.” —Leeds Mercury. 


Early English Poetry. Selected, with Critical Introduction 
and Notes, by H. Macaulay Fitzgibbon. 


** The work has been well done, and should be in the hands of all 
students of Early English Poetry.” 


a) 


Canterbury Poets—continued. oF 
Elfin Music. An Anthology of English Fairy Poetry. 


30 


Selected and arranged, with an Introduction, by Arthur 
Edward Waite. 


‘This is a unique production, and abounds in gems of poetry, — 


; Ka: ae 
eve reat poet being placed under contribution, Mr. Waite’s 
faptodicction is a careful historical treatment of the subject of fairy 
lore, which cannot fail to be of value to the student of literature.” — 
The Examiner. 


Emerson. With Prefatory Note by Walter Lewin. 


**Readers may rest assured that no better, handier, or cheaper 
edition of the great essayist’s poems—poems which, under ‘all their 
rugged irregularities of form, are still brimful of deep and sincere 
thought—will ever be likely to come into market than that now lying 
before us in ‘ The Canterbury Poets.’””—Dundee Advertiser. 


Goethe’s “ Faust,” with some of the Minor Poems. Edited 4 


by Elizabeth Craigmyle. 
‘‘ The essay by the editor is worthy of the subject ; and the little 
volume is a choice and handy edition of the great poem.” —Wewcastle 
Daily Journal, 


Goldsmith, The Plays and Poems of. With Introduction by 


William Tirebuck. 


“‘The introduction is a skilful piece of compressed biography, 
succinct, graphic, and faithful.”"— Yorkshire Post. 


Greek Anthology, Selections from. Edited by Graham R. 
Tomson. [September volume. 


Greenwell, Dora, Poems of. With a Biographical Introduc- 


tion by William Dorling, 


“The selection before us is excellent in every way, and includes 
some of the best of her poetical pieces.” —Oxford Times. 


Heine, Heinrich. Selected, with Introduction, by Mrs. 
Kroeker. 


‘Mrs. Freiligrath-Kroeker may be congratulated on her successful 
achievement, and we can heartily recommend her selections from 
Heine's poems to every English household where poetry is cherished,” 


—Literary World. 
Herbert’s Poems, to which are added Selections from his 
ae and Walton’s Life. With Introduction by Ernest 
ys. 


“The volume is altogether a delightful, comprehensive, and im- 
portant one, and Mr. Scott has done well to issue it in his very 
valuable, neat, and cheap series.”—Brechin Advertiser, 


Herrick—Hesperides. With Notes by Herbert P. Horne. 


** A pretty edition, with some good notes.” —A¢heneum. 





<del UR L it ek NO de 


ee er Oe ee 


31 


Canterbury Poets—continued. 


Hogg, James, the Ettrick Shepherd. Selected. Edited, 
with Introduction, by the Poet’s Daughter, Mrs. Garden. 
** The reader may be assured that he has here the finest and most 
characteristic work of James Hogg.” —Ox/ford Times. 


Horace. ‘Translations from Horace. With Notes. By Sir 
Stephen E. De Vere, Bart. 

*€ This third edition is published in a cheap and handy form, and 
whatever verdict the public may pronounce on the translations them- 
selves, no lover of Horace will refuse a grateful tribute of warm and 
well-merited praise to them, and to the admirable preface which sets 
them off so brilliantly.” — Zhe Spectator. 


Hugo, Victor. Translated by Dean Carrington, with Intro- 
duction by Countess Martinengo-Cesaresco. 
“The translation is good, and I am reading the poems with much 
interest. I have no copy of them in the original, but there is a source 
of much enjoyment in the translation.’””-—JOHN BRIGHT. 


Hunt and Hood, The Poetical Works of. Edited, with 


Introduction, by Julian Harwood. [Movember volume. 


Irish Minstrelsy. Being a selection of Irish Songs, Lyrics, 
and Ballads; Original and Translated. Edited, with 
Notes and Introduction, by H. Halliday Sparling. 

**Tt is such an anthology of Irish poetry up to the most recent date 
as will be a revelation of hitherto hidden wealth to most readers, and 
to experts will seem a triumph of competent editing.” — 77wzh. 


Jacobite Songs and Ballads. Selected, with Notes and 
Introduction, by G. S. Macquoid. 
‘* The selection is excellent, and the accompanying ‘notes’ exactly 
what is wanted in such a book.” —Ardroath Herald. 


Keats. With Introductory Sketch, by John Hogben. 
**Tt is, like its fellows, a pleasant and convenient little volume; 
and Mr. Hogben’s introductory sketch is fairly satisfactory.” — Zhe 
Spectator. 


Landor. Selected and edited by Ernest Radford. 
‘* Altogether, we cannot speak too highly of this beautiful little 
volume of selections from Landor.”— Volunteer Service Gazette. 


Longfellow. Selected, with Introduction, by Eva Hope. 
‘*“ We have not seen yet so good a life of the poet as that which is 
included in this volume.” —Sunday School Times. 


Love-Letters of a Violinist, and other Poems. By Eric 

Mackay. 

** He will probably be numbered with the choice few whose names 

are destined to live by the side of poets such as Keats, whom, as far 

as careful work, delicate feeling, and fiery tenderness go, he greatly 
resembles.” — Glasgow Herald. 


Perna cette aT . 
USN 
' 7) 





“? a 






Canterbury Poets—continued. 


Marlowe. Selections from the Dramatic Works of. With 
Introduction by Percy E, Pinkerton. 


‘It gives us all that is best and most worthy of preservation in the 
poet’s works in a compact and handy form.”—Lz¢erary World. 


Marston, Philip Bourke.—Song-Tide: Poems and Lyrics of 
Love’s Joy and Sorrow. Edited, with Introductory Memoir, 
by William Sharp. 

‘* Altogether, this volume is one for which we cannot offer Mr. 
Sharp gratitude too warm.” —Academy. 


Milton’s Paradise Lost. By J. Bradshaw, M.A., LL.D. 


‘¢ All who desire to have the masterpiece of the great Puritan poet 
in a convenient and easily accessible form could not do better than 
become possessed of this issue.” —Dundee Advertiser, 


Moore, Poems of. Selected, with Introduction, by John 

Dorrian. 

‘‘The selections are judiciously made, and are conveniently 
grouped in appropriate classes; and the volume as a whole contains 
most of what the general reader would care to see of Moore.”— 
Aberdeen Free Press. 


Ossian. Poems of Ossian. ‘Translated by James Macpher- — 
son, with an Introduction, Historical and Critical, by George 
Eyre-Todd. 


‘* The poems of Ossian, as all scholars know, desarve a high place . 
in the world of poetry, and in this edition will be found all thatisof 
value in a translation at once able and characteristic.” —Barrow 
News. 


Paradise Regained, and Minor Poems. Edited by J. 
Bradshaw, M.A., LL.D. : 


‘“‘Mr. Bradshaw’s selection ought to gain new readers for our 
noble Puritan poet among a generation that knows him too little.’— 
Northern Daily Telegraph. 


Poe. Poems, with Selections from the Prose. With 
Biographical Sketch by Joseph Skipsey. 
‘* A choice edition, with a very good preface.” 


Pope. With Introductory Sketch by John Hogben. 


** Mr. Hogben’s selection and sketch are alike to be commended,” 


Praed. With Introductory Notice by Frederick Cooper. 


‘‘The first to give in convenient and cheap form a substantive 
selection of the work of one of the most charming of English verse- 
writers. His introduction is good.”—Saturday Review. 





33 


_ Canterbury Poets—continued. 


Ramsay, Allan. With Biographical Sketch by J. Logie 
Robertson, M.A. 


** The reading public have now what they had not before—a cheap 
and well-appointed edition of Ramsay, which gives all his best work 
and nothing but his best.” —Scotsman. 


Scott.—Marmion, etc. Edited, with Prefatory Notice, by 
William Sharp. 

Scott.—Lady of the Lake, etc. 
‘* A delightful prefatory notice.” —Derby Gazette. 


Sea Music. An Anthology of Poems and Passages descrip- 
tive of the Sea. Edited by Mrs. Sharp. 
** A volume for all lovers of the sea, and who is not?” 


Shakespeare: Songs, Poems, and Sonnets. With Critical 
Introduction by William Sharp. 


‘*The introductory note to this little volume of Shakespeare’s 
Songs, Poems, and Sonnets is characterised by very sound common 
sense.”—Oxford Review. 


“Shelley. Lyrics and Minor Poems, ith Introduction by 
Joseph Skipsey. ' 
‘¢ The very best and most characteristic of his work is represented.” 
— Cambridge Undergraduates’ Journal, 


RI RP A A CN LN LA AAR A AR ON bk RS 
1 ve ’ 3 — | 7 


if Sonnets of this Century. Edited by William Sharp. 
i ** The selection is very catholic and very complete, and we do not 
fe remember the name of any poet of the century whose work is worthy 


of consideration whom Mr. Sharp has failed to include.” —Sfectator. 


Sonnets of Europe. A Volume of Translations. Selected — 
and arranged, with Notes, by S. Waddington. 


‘*The present selection is in all ways an admirable one.”— Zhe 
Academy. 


Southey. Selections from the Poems of Robert Southey. 
Edited, with Biographical and Critical Introduction, by 
Sidney R. Thompson. 


**The task of selection has been accomplished with insight and 
feeling. . . . Mr. Thompson also contributes a critical introduction, 
which is well written, shrewd, appreciative, and in every way com- 
petent.”—Wotes and Queries. 


- Spenser. Selected, with an Essay, Biographical and Critical, 
| ~ and Glossary, by Hon. Roden Noel. 

; ** The introductory essay is well done, and altogether the volume is 
a valuable addition to the series of ‘ Canterbury Poets.’ ”—Camébridge 
Independent Press. 3 


ee. PRS Ca Sabo i ei co BS SB ES Oe oe 





_ i TT. ~..2° 7 - “2s =f - ees. oe 
—7 hs ee oe a ae 
~S r t / ‘ 

\ . - 


34 


Canterbury Poets—continued. 


Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Edited, with Introduc- 
tion, by Ernest Rhys. 
Whittier. Selected, with Introductory Notice, by Eva Hope. 


‘‘ Excellent, with a judicious memoir. It includes the poet’s best 
work.” —Saturday Review. 


Wild Life, Poems of. Selected and edited by Charles G, 


D. Roberts. : 
‘‘The editing of this little volume has- been executed with 


enthusiasfn and yet also with care.” —Spectator. 


Wordsworth. Selected and edited, with Introduction, 
Biographical and Critical, by A. J. Symington. 
‘‘ Every student of Wordsworth will be glad to have the poems in 


so small a compass, and prefaced with such an intelligent critical — 


notice.”—Czvzl Service Gazette. 


Cashel Byron’s Profession. (See Novocastrian Series.) 
Cheap Food and Cheap Cooking. To which is 


added Hints for the Management of Penny Dinners for School 
Children. Illustrated by Coloured Diagrams. By the Rev. W. 
Moore-Ede, Rector of Gateshead-on-Tyne. Twentieth Thousand. 
Crown 8vo, price One Penny. 


Child's First Steps in Learning. A Series of 
Graduated Lessons for School and Home use, in Large Bold 
Type. Crown 4to, price Sixpence. | 


Children of the Poets: An Anthology from English 
and American Writers of Three Centuries. Edited, with Intro- 
duction, by Professor E. R. Robertson, M.A. This Volume 
contains contributions by Lord Tennyson, William Bell Scott, 
Robert Browning, James Russell Lowell, George Macdonald, 
Algernon Charles Swinburne, Theodore Watts, Austin Dobson, 
Hon. Roden Noel, Edmund Gosse, Robert Louis Stevenson, etc. 
Printed on Antique Paper, Crown 8vo, 440 pages, price 3s. 6d. 


Christian Heroines; or, Lives of Female 
Missionaries in Heathen Lands. By Daniel D. C. Eddy, D.D. 
Crown 8vo, Bevelled Boards, price 2s. 6d. 

Christian Socialism v. State Socialism. The Penny 
Dinner Problem: How may hungry children be fed without 


pauperising parents? By a North-Country Woman. Crown — 


8vo, price Twopence. 

“Is written in a bright, clever, and attractive style. It reveals a most 
intimate knowledge of the ways and peculiarities of the very poor, and great 
powers of observation and much skilful analysis of character.”—Vewcastle 
Daily Chronicle, 





35 
Cobden, Richard, and the Free Traders. By 


Lewis Apjohn. Crown 8vo, with Photo Portrait, price 2s. 6d. 


** To those members of the working and trading classes who have fallen 
under the influence of the reciprocity craze we recommend, as a corrective, 
the perusal of this cheap volume.” —Liverpfool Mercury. 


**T find it very interesting.”—Rt. Hon. JoHN BRIGHT, 


Colleen Bawn; or, The Collegians. A Tale of 


Garryowen. By Gerald Griffin, Crown 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled 
Boards, price 2s. 6d. 








ORR AES A STD A AA EDI | ARS CCN aR A 
. rs — — . 


Compensation, the Law of, under the Agricultural 
Holdings (England) Act, 1883. By Charles D. Forster, Solicitor, 
Newcastle-on-Tyne. Price, Paper Boards, 2s. 6d., Cloth, 3s. 6d. 


** Several text-books have already been written on this very important 
Act, but for fulness of information, for clearness of arrangements, for 
lucidity of style, and for general helpfulness to all who desire to grasp the 
scope and the contents of the Act, this volume has as yet no superior.” — 
The Oldham Chronicle, 


Conduct and Duty. A Treasure Book of Intel- 
lectual, Physical, Social, and Moral Advice. Selected from the 
Teachings of Thinkers and Writers of all Times and Countries, 
By William Thomas Pyke. Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt, price 2s. 6d. 


**A real treasure book. It contains a wealth of intellectual, physical, 
and moral advice.”—Melbourne Daily Telegraph. 


Le 


MA A ek ONS OU 2 9 EAL ORS 


Copenhagen, Guide to. By Lucy Andersen. 
_ Crown 8vo, Cloth, price 3s. 6d. 


Count Tolstoi’s Works. In Monthly Volumes. 


Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. per vol.; Half-Polished Morocco, gilt top, 5s. 
Anna Karénina. (2 vols.) 


s* As you read on you say, not, ‘ This is like life, but, ‘ This is 
life.’ It has not only the complexion, the very hue, of life, but its 
movement, its advances, its strange pauses, its seeming reversions to 
former conditions, and its perpetual change, its apparent isolations, 
its essential solidarity. It is a world, and you live in it while you 
read, and long afterward.” —W. D. Howells. 


A Russian Proprietor, and other Stories. 


‘*For the issue of this series of the great Russian novelist’s 
romances Mr. Walter Scott deserves the thanks of all who are in- 
terested in high literature; and the influence of such widespread 
perusal as must follow cannot but be to the welfare both of English 
fiction and of the readers thereof.” —Academy. 


36 





Count Tolstoi’s Works—continued. 


Childhood, Boyhood, Youth. } 
‘The quality pre-eminent in ‘Childhood, Boyhood, Youth’ is 
charm—charm of manner, magic of comprehension. It is a study of 
childhood and adolescence conceived in a vein at once $ fictional’ 
(to quote the new jargon) and real. That the most baffling of all 
literary secrets—the secret how to present youth and the complex and 
evanescent emotions of youth—is Tolstoi’s own is known to everyone __ 
who knows his ‘ Katia.’ But the present work is his most shining 
triumph in this way.”—Scots Observer. 


. 


Ivan Ilyitch, and other Stories. 


‘©The Death of Ivan Ilyitch,’ which is the leading tale of the 
present volume, is a superb realistic study both of a disease and of 
a man, and there are several other very impressive sketches. This 
edition will certainly give Tolstoi a great reputation in Britain.” 
—British Weekly. : 


Life. 


“ The new volume of the English version of Count Tolstoi’s works 
contains his ethical and religious treatise on ‘ Life.’ It is well 
rendered by Miss Isabel F. Hapgood, and will be eagerly read by all 
who have been attracted by that powerful book ‘ My Religion.’ . . . 
It need not be said that this work shows power, acuteness of thought, 
and a fruitful simplicity of idea. . .. The translation cannot but 
serve the highest interests of literature and philosophy if it serves to 
spread wide a knowledge of Count Tolstoi’s original and impressive 
teaching.” —Scotsman, 


My Confession. ‘ 
‘* By the translation of ‘My Confession,’ English readers are put 
in possession of the third and last of the series of works through 
which Tolstoi has set forth the fundamentals of his creed and the 
mental history by which he has reached it. - The essence of his 
doctrine is simple, and can be gathered from any one of these 
volumes. , . . Ifany of the three is to be passed by, it must by no 
means be this concluding volume, which possesses the deep and 
pathetic interest which attaches to the spiritual struggles of a lofty 
soul.” —Manchester Guardian. 


My Religion. ; 

‘Tt is the spiritual autobiography of a remarkable man anda | 
remarkable writer, upon whose life the progress of religious belief 
has had extraordinary practical effects, and whose eminence as an 
artist and a thinker has given something like a new promulgation to 
the fundamental doctrines of Christianity. . . . The moral force of 
the work lies in the earnestness with which it teaches a return to the 
Christianity of Christ. . . . The English translation will be welcome ~ __ 
to a large number of readers to whom accounts of the original are 
familiar.””—Scotsman. 


Sevastopol. [December volume, 





1 AAR Nd eA 


EU el oe ee vera Ter nt Tet 


st ee > 


Count Tolstoi’s Works—continued. 


The Cossacks: A Tale of the Caucasus in the Year 1852. 


**Tt is almost full of the exceedingly convincing descriptions of 
Russian people and places, in which Count Tolstoi has certainly no 
living rival.” —Saturday Review. 


The Invaders, and other Stories, 


** Readers who have not yet learned what ‘realism’ in fiction 
means in the hands of the Russian author who is the greatest of 
living novelists will find it in Mr. N. H. Dole’s English translation 
of Tolstoi’s ‘Invaders, and other Stories,’ just published by Mr. 
Walter Scott, of Paternoster Row. The descriptions of scenery with 
which these tales abound are as exquisite as any in the same author’s 
novel of ‘ The Cossacks.’”—Zcho. 


The Long Exile, and other Stories for Children. 


[Wovember volume. 


The Physiology of War, and Power and Liberty. 


‘* Napoleon’s glory was never more plainly shown to be an empty 
thing than in Tolstoi’s powerful examination of his career. It is 
rather to those who are interested in Tolstoi, however, than to those 
who are interested in Napoleon that the books appeal. They havea 
rapidly growing audience in this country, and to them Mr. Hunting- 
don’s clear version will be heartily welcome.” — Scotsman. 


War and Peace. (4 vols.) ; [October volume, 


** As you advance in the book, curiosity changes into astonishment, 
and astonishment into admiration, before this impassive judge, who 
calls before his tribunal all human actions, and makes the soul 
render to itself an account of all its secrets. You feel yourself swept 
away on the current of a tranquil river, the depth of which you 
cannot fathom ; it is life itself which is passing, agitating the hearts 
of men, which are suddenly made bare in the truth and complexity of 
their movements.” —Vte. E. M. de Vogiié, in Ze Roman Russe. 


What to Do? 


** We have arranged for ourselves,” says Count Tolstoi, ‘‘a life 
which is against the moral and physical nature of man, and we use all 
the powers of our mind to assure men that this life is a real one.” 
As showing the result of Tolstoi’s consideration of the present state 
of things, and as an exposition of his ideas as to how the social 
question is to be solved, this volume forms one of the most interesting 
of the many books which Count Tolstoi has written. 


Covenanters, Tales and Sketches of the: Being a 


choice Selection of Narratives in connection with the Persecution 
of the Scottish Covenanters. Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt, with 
numerous full-page Illustrations, price 2s. 6d. 


 Death’s Disguises, and other Sonnets. By Frank 


T. Marzials. Crown 8vo, Parchment Limp, 3s. 
** A charming and finely-wrought little book of poems.” —Scotsman. 


38 
Democracy. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 2s. 


Devil’s Whisper. (See Novocastrian Series.) . 


Dickens, Charles. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 2s. 


Barnaby Rudge. Oliver Twist. 
Martin Chuzzlewit. Pickwick Papers. 
Nicholas Nickleby. Sketches by Boz. 


Old Curiosity Shop. 


A Christmas Carol: Being a Ghost Story of Christmas. 
Square 8vo, Cloth Gilt, price 1s. 


Dicky Bird Society, History of the. By Uncle 
Toby. With numerous Illustrations, Crown 4to, price 3d. 


Tittle children, and big ones too, may well read with pleasure Uncle 
Toby’s History of the Dicky Bird Society.” —National Reformer. 


Doctor’s Corner. By R. Clark Newton, M.S., L.M., 
M.R.C.S.L. Tenth Thousand, Royal 8vo, 62 pp., price 6d. 
ConTENTS :—Digestion and Indigestion—Headaches—Consumption, is it 

Curable?—Is it Contagious?—Breakfast—Dinner—Diet of the Sick— 
Corpulence—Scarlet Fever—Use of Fruit—Water as a Summer Beverage— 
Feeding of Children—RecrpEs: Beef-tea; Cold Essence of Beef; Jelly; 
Rice; Milk; Baked Calves’ Feet; Digested Milk and Soluble Meat; 
Demulcent Drink ; Soyer’s Tapioca and Cod Liver; Tamarind Whey, etc. 


Don’t. Directions for Avoiding Improprieties in 
Conduct and Common Errors of Speech. Square 8vo, Parch- 
ment Limp, Is. 


Early English Poetry. (See Windsor Series.) 
Elijah, the Desert Prophet. By the Rev. H. T. 


Howat. Crown 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled Boards, price 2s. 6d. 


Elocution. (With Select Recitations.) By T. R. 


Walton Pearson, M.A., of St. Catharine’s College, Cambridge, 
and Frederic William Waithman, Lecturer on Elocution in the 
Leeds and Bradford Institutes. Crown 8vo, Cloth, price Is. 


_ ** This concise and well-arranged treatise is exactly one of the useful 
little handbooks which we should like to see distributed by the School 
Board throughout the length and breadth of their Young England, wherein 
so much in the matter of speech has been wilfully neglected and therefore 
remains to be repaired.” — 7he Stage. 


39 


Elswick Science Series. Crown 8vo, Cloth, price 
3s. 6d. 


Practical and Theoretical Trigonometry. By Henry Evers, 
LL.D., Author of “ Steam,” “ Navigation,” etc. 
** In following the line of practical usefulness he has succeeded in 


writing a book for students such as was really needed, and will, we 
are inclined to think, gain considerable popularity.” —Atheneum. 


Manual of Steam and Prime Movers. By Henry Evers, 
LL.D., Author of “ Steam,” “ Navigation,” etc. 


Emigrant’s Handbook to the British Colonies. By 
Waldemar Bannow. Crown 8vo, price Is. 


‘* His advice to emigrants is written in a kindly and friendly spirit, and is 
brimful of useful information. . . . To all who have any thoughts of 
emigration we strongly advise a careful reading of Mr. Bannow’s excellent 
book.” —Newcastle Daily Journal. 


England under Victoria. Imperial 8vo, Cloth, 
Ios. 6d. 


Ethel Linton; or, The Feversham Temper. By 
E. A. W. Crown 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled Boards, price 2s. 6d. 





i DAL BIA UO ARPA Ah A QURAN RARE <a Dares om: 
SAAR Le 


European Conversation Books. Cloth Limp, ts. 
each, No. I. FRENCH. No. II. ITALIAN. No. III. SPANISH. 
No. IV. GERMAN. ' 





Every-Day Help Series, for Young Men and Young 


Women. 


How to do Business. A Pocket Manual of Practical Affairs 
and Guide to Success in Life. Demy 32mo, 126 pages, 
Cloth Limp, price 6d. 


How to Behave. A Pocket Manual of Etiquette. Demy 
32mo, 126 pages, Cloth Limp, price 6d. 


How to Write. A Pocket Manual of Composition and 
Letter-Writing. Demy 32mo, Cloth Limp, price 6d. 


How to Debate. A Manual for Mutual Improvement 
Societies, with Hints on Public Speaking, and a list of 
subjects suitable for discussion. Cloth Limp, price 4d. 


Ladies’ National Housekeeper’s Book, for any year. Post 
4to, price 6d. 


40 


Eye Diseases: What the Public should know of 


them. ‘Two Lectures delivered at the Northumberland, Durham, 
and Newcastle Infirmary for Diseases of the Eye. By C. S, 
Jeaffreson, F.R.C.S.E., F.R.M.S. Demy 8vo, price Is, 


‘* Dr. Jeaffreson has few equals either in knowledge and skill, or in his 
power of clear and interesting exposition, of the subject treated in this 
pamphlet.” —Newcastle Daily Leader. 


Famous Engineers. J. F. Layson. Crown $vo, 
Cloth, Illustrated, price 2s. 6d. 


Garibaldi, Life of General. By Howard Blackett. 


Imperial 8vo, Cloth, Gilt Edges, 10s. 6d.; also Crown 8vo, Cloth, 
Illustrated, price 2s. 6d. 


General Gordon, Life of. With Photographic Portrait 
taken at Khartoum. By the Authors of “Our Queen,” “Grace 
Darling,” etc. goth Thousand. Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt, price 
2s. 6d. 


‘* The book before us is thoroughly well done. The story of Gordon’s 
eventful and romantic life is told clearly, graphically, and without 
unnecessary padding.” —The Literary Churchman. 


Gladstone, W. E. His Lifeand Works. By Lewis 


Apjohn. 45th Thousand, Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt, Illustrated, 
price 2s. 6d. ; 


‘* A straightforward and pleasantly-written narrative of the career of the 
Premier, embracing also brief summaries of the condition of the country, 


political and social, at the most memorable epoch of his life. The book will. 


be found especially valuable to students of current politics.” —Scotsman. 


Goldsmith’s Vicar of Wakefield. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 


Illustrated, price 2s. 6d. 


Golden Gleams: Being Choice Selections from the 


Words and Works of the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. Crown 
8vo, Cloth Gilt, price 2s. 6d. 


Grace Darling, Heroine of the Farne Isles. By the 
Author of “Our Queen.” 80th Thousand, Crown 8vo, Cloth, 
Bevelled Boards, price 2s. 6d. 


Woman’s Work—Ancient Northumbria—The Childhood of a Heroine— 
Lighthouse Homes—Lighthouse Guests—Christmas at the Longstone Light- 
house—A Wedding in the Family—‘‘ Prevention Better than Cure ”— 


August Pic-Nic Pleasures—The Perils of the Ocean—The Wreck of the 


Forfarshire—Grace to the Rescue—After the Event—A Visit to the Duke 
and Duchess of Northumberland at Alnwick Castle—The Darling Family 
at Home—An Early Death—‘‘ Being Dead, yet speaketh ”—Conclusion. 


pi ek >) SS 








os 


2 > 
be ae ES 


wy 








Great Writers. Monthly Shilling Volumes. Cut 
or Uncut Edges. A New Series of Critical Biographies. 
Edited by Professor Eric S. Robertson. 


Bronté, Charlotte. By Augustine Birrell. 
** Those who know much of Charlotte Bronté will learn more, and 
those who know nothing about her will find all that is best worth 
learning in Mr. Birrell’s pleasant book.” —St. James's Gazette. 


Bunyan. By Canon Venables. 


‘*A most intelligent, appreciative, and valuable memoir.”— 
Scotsman. 


Burns. By Professor Blackie. 
** Unless we are much mistaken, his monograph will take rank with 
the best essays that have been written on Scotland’s best-loved bard.” 
—Fall Mali Gazetée. 


Carlyle, Thomas. By Richard Garnett, LL.D. 


‘* This is an admirable book. - Nothing could be more felicitous 
and fairer than the way in which he takes us through Carlyle’s life 
and works.” —all Mall Gazette. 


Coleridge. By Hall Caine. 


‘* Brief and vigorous, written throughout with spirit and great 
literary skill, often rising into eloquence.” —Scotsman. 


Congreve. By Edmund Gosse. 


**Mr. Gosse has written an admirable and most interesting 
biography of a man of letters who is of particular interest to other 
men of letters.”— Zhe Academy. 


Crabbe. By T. E. Kebbel. 


- No English poet since Shakespeare has observed certain aspects 
of nature and of human life more closely; and in the qualities of 
manliness and of sincerity he is surpassed by none.... Mr, 
Kebbel’s monograph is worthy of the subject.”— Atheneum. 


Darwin. By G. T. Bettany. 


Mr. G. T. Bettany’s Zzfe of Darwin is a sound and conscientious 
work.” —Saturday Review. 


Dickens. By Frank T. Marzials. 


‘** Notwithstanding the mass of matter that has been printed re- 
lating to Dickens and his works... we should, until we came 
across this volume, have been at a loss to recommend any popular 
life of England’s most popular novelist as being really satisfactory. 
The difficulty is removed by Mr. Marzials’s little book.” — Atheneum. 


Emerson. By Richard Garnett, LL.D. 


** As to the larger section of the public, to whom the series of 
Great Writers is addressed, no record of Emerson’s life and work 
could be more desirable, both in breadth of treatment and lucidity of 
style, than Dr. Garnett’s.”—Saturday Review. 


TLL DM NLM AAS LOLA LES FE OM OANA) PE RE Coe) A la el On Se 
a e 5 - ali " inl 


LALIT EEE MAG ESSE OAR eR MRR BAB BAP AR A OSE LR 


- 


 —— sl 


42 


Great Writers—condinued. 


Goethe. By James Sime. 


‘‘ Mr. James Sime’s competence as a biographer of Goethe, both 
in respect of knowledge of his special subject, and of German litera- 
ture generally, is beyond question.” —Manchester Guardian. 


Goldsmith. By Austin Dobson. 


‘‘ Mr. Dobson’s narrative is clear and well arranged, and his remarks 
on Goldsmith’s literary work are full of common sense. In many 
respects a model of short biography.”—Atheneum. 


Heine. By William Sharp. - 


‘© This is an admirable monograph . . . more fully written up to 
the level of recent knowledge and criticism of its theme than any 
other English work.” —Scotsman. 


Hugo, Victor. By F. T. Marzials. 


‘* Mr, Marzials’s volume presents to us, in a more handy form than 
any English or even French handbook gives, the summary of what, 


up to the moment in which we write, is known or conjectured about 


the life of the great poet.” Saturday Review. 
Johnson, Samuel. By Colonel F. Grant. 


‘*Colonel Grant has performed his task with diligence, sound 
judgment, good taste, and accuracy.”—J/lustrated London News. 


Keats. By W. M. Rossetti. 


‘‘Valuable for the ample information which it contains, and the 
sympathetic and authoritative criticism which it furnishes.”—Cam- 
bridge Independent. . 


Longfellow. By Professor Eric S. Robertson. 


‘* A most readable little work, brightened by fancy, and enriched 
by poetic feeling.” —Liverpool Mercury. 


Marryat. By David Hannay. 


‘¢ What Mr. Hannay had to do—give a craftsman-like account of a 
great craftsman who has been almost incomprehensibly undervalued 
—could hardly have been done better than in this little volume, and 
though fortunately there is no fear of Marryat’s ceasing for many a 
long day to be popular with boys, it is to be hoped that this book 
may help to restore his popularity with other than boys.” —Manchester 
Guardian. 


Mill. By W. L. Courtney. 


‘*A most sympathetic and discriminating memoir.” — Glasgow 
Herald, 


Rossetti, Dante Gabriel. By Joseph Knight. 


‘Mr. Knight’s picture of the great poet and painter is the fullest 
and best yet presented to the public.”— Zhe Graphic. 








43 


Great Writers—continued. 
Schiller. By Henry W. Nevinson. 


‘€ This is a well-written little volume, which presents the leading 


facts of the poet’s life in a neatly rounded picture.” —Scotsman. 


Scott. By Professor Yonge. 


‘‘ For readers and lovers of the poems and novels of Sir Walter 
Scott this is a most enjoyable book.” —<Alerdeen Free Press. 


- Shelley. By William Sharp. 


** Another fit memorial of a beautiful soul. . .. it is a worthy 
addition, to be cherished for its own sake, to our already rich 
collection of Shelley literature.” — Zhe Academy. 


Smith, Adam. By R. B. Haldane, M.P. 


“‘ Written throughout with a perspicuity seldom exemplified when 
dealing with economic science.” — Stotsman. 


Smollett. By David Hannay. 


‘* A capable record of a writer who still remains one of the great 
masters of the English novel.” — Saturday Review. 


Library edition of Great Writers, printed on large paper of extra 
quality, in handsome binding, Demy 8vo, price 2s. 6d. per volume. 


Guide to Emigration and Colonisation: An Appeal 


- to the Nation. By Waldemar Bannow, upwards of Eighteen 
years a resident of Victoria, Australia. Crown 8vo, price 1s. 6d. 


‘*Mr. Bannow writes in a practical, terse fashion; and the informa- 
tion and advice he furnishes render his book a valuable help to persons 
who are thinking of emigrating.” —Shefield Daily Telegraph. 


Gypsy Series of 1s. Reward Books. [F'’cp. 8vo, 
Cloth Gilt. By G. Stuart Phelps. 


Gypsy Breynton. 
Gypsy’s Cousin Joy. In which Joy comes to Yorkbury. 


Gypsy’s Sowing and Reaping. Which concerns Gypsy and 
Tom. 


Gypsy’s Year at the Golden Crescent. In which Gypsy goes 
to Boarding School. 


Handy Guide to Conveyancing Costs under: the 
Solicitors’ Remuneration Act, 1881. By J. Hough. Price 2s. 6d. 


Hazel; or, Perilpoint Lighthouse. By Emily Grace 
Harding. Crown 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled Boards, price 2s. 6d. 





44 


Health Resorts of Northern England. By Richard 


Ellis, F.R.C.S. Edin., Senior Surgeon, Newcastle-on-Tyne 

Throat and Ear Hospital. With New Chapters on Whitby, 

Scarborough, Redcar, Saltburn, Harrogate, etc. Where to go, 

and why, with Hints on Sea Bathing, etc. 

‘* Dr. Ellis has done very good service in classifying for his professional 
brethren the ‘ Health Resorts of the North of England,’ and has placed in 
the hands of the laity a little work which all may read with interest and 
profit. It is rich in facts of history, and is replete with points of 
geographical and geological worth.” —Liverpool Medico-Chirurgical Journal, 
Jan. 1884, 

Hedley, George Roberts. Ballads and other Poems. 

Crown 8vo, price 3s. 6d. ; 


‘*There are some verses which have all the ring in them of some of the 
work of the old dramatists. The book is a melodious collection of good 
things.”—ewcastle Courant. 


Helen’s Babies. With some Account of their 
Ways. Royal 16mo, in Cloth Gilt, with numerous full-page 
Engravings. Price 1s.; Bevelled Boards, Gilt Edges, 1s. 6d. 


Hume and Smollett’s History of England. Imperial 
8vo, 1420 pages, Cloth, price 7s. 6d. 


Ingraham, Rev. J. Prince of the House of David. 
Crown 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled Boards, price 2s. 6d. 


Infant Feeding and Management, Plain Facts about. 


Popular Treatise by C. Stennett Redmond, L.K.Q.C.P.1. & 
L.R.C.S.I. Crown 8vo, Cloth, price 2s. 


**An exceedingly useful treatise on a most important, yet much 
neglected study, for those having care of the young.” —Jrish Tribune. 


Irish Minstrelsy. (See Windsor Series.) 
Jack D udley’s Wife. (See Novocastrian Series.) 


Jane Eyre. By Charlotte Bronté. Crown 8vo, 
Cloth, price 2s. 


Last of the Mohicans. By Fenimore Cooper. 
Crown 8vo, Cloth, 2s. 


Lays of the Highlands. By J. S. Blackie. Square 
8vo, Cloth, price 2s. 6d. 


Kara Yerta Tragedy. (See Novocastrian Series.) 
Lever, Charles. Charles O'Malley, Crown 8vo, 


Cloth, price 2s. 





ETO IF OSE PS ee IG CARREY 








Life Stories of Famous Children. Adapted from 
the French. By the Author of “ Spenser for Children.” Fools- 
cap 8vo, Cloth, price Is. 


Lincoln and Garfield: New World Heroes. The 


Life Story of two self-made Men whom the People made 
Presidents. Crown 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled Boards, Illustrated, 
price 2s. 6d. 


‘* We know no better book for the encouragement of young men to rise 
to be worthy of the endowments of mankind, the blessings of a birthplace in 
a free country, than the Lives of Lincoln and Garfield.” —Warrington 
Guardian. 


Lives Great and Simple. By S. A. Tooley. 


The Volume contains Lives of General Gordon, Princess Alice, 
Henry Irving, Alexander Macdonald, Lord Wolseley, Dr. William 
Chambers, Lord Lawrence, Robert Dick, Anthony Trollope, 
Sir William Fairbairn, Robert Tannahill, James Garfield, Janet 
Hamilton, Charles Dickens, Thomas Edward, Thomas Carlyle, 
Henry Scott Riddell, William Leighton Leitch, Henry M. Stanley, 
Edward Irving. Crown 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled Boards, price 
2s. 6d. 


Livingstone, Life of David. By J. S. Robertson. 


Imperial 8vo, Cloth, Gilt Edges, 10s. 6d.; also Crown 8vo, 
Cloth, 2s. 6d. : 


**No one can read Livingstone’s life without admiring and loving the 
man. Above his greatness as an explorer rises the massiveness of his 
character ; and his large-hearted love for the poor negro, his deep hatred 
of the accursed slave trade, his sturdy independence, strong iron will, stern 
tenacity of purpose, and calm fortitude under trouble or disaster, stamps 
him a truly great man.” 


Livingston’s Poems and Songs. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 
3s. 6d. 


Lytton, Bulwer. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 2s. 6d. 


Alice ; or, the Mysteries. Night and Morning, 
Ernest Maltravers. / Paul Clifford. 
Eugene Aram. Pelham. 

Last Days of Pompeii. Rienzi. 

Last of the Barons. 





Mansfield Park. By Jane Austen. Crown 8vo, 
Cloth, 2s. 





46 
Marston, Philip Bourke. For a Song’s Sake. And 


other Stories. By the late Philip Bourke Marston. Crown 8vo, 
507 pages, Cloth Gilt, price 4s. 6d. 


‘© A brief memoir by Mr. William Sharp, ably and sympatheticall 
written, introduces the stories, and makes the volume one which the author’s 
many admirers will be eager to possess. . . . Powerful studies, romantic 
in sentiment.” — Zhe Scotsman. 


Marryat, Captain. Crown 8vo, Cloth, price 2s. 6d. 


Jacob Faithful. Peter Simple. 
Midshipman Easy. Poor Jack. 


Mary in Heaven. Poem by Robert Burns. Iilus- 


trated. Square 8vo, Is. ; 


Memorable Shipwrecks and Seafaring Adventures 
of the Nineteenth Century. Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt, with Illus- 
trations, price 2s. 6d. 


Moffat, Robert, Life of. By Rev. W. Walters. 
Crown 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled Boards, price 2s. 6d. 


Christian Foreign Missions are characteristic of the nineteenth century. 
Robert Moffat’s life was a marvellous illustration of the grandeur and power 
of goodness, and his labours were full of proof of the saving efficacy and 
civilising effects of the Gospel. 


Monthly Chronicle of North-Country Lore and 


Legend. Crown 4to, 48 pages, price Sixpence. 


The Monthly Chronicle has been established to preserve the great wealth 
of legend and story that abounds in the North of England. Every number 
contains a variety of articles of great popular interest. Most of the articles 
are illustrated with engravings of the persons or scenes described. 


Mountain Daisy, A. By Emily Grace Harding. 
Crown 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled Boards, price 2s. 6d. 
**Tt is entitled to the first place in the order of merit.” —Academy. 


Mr. Barnes of New York. By A, C. Gunter, 


Crown 8vo, Is. 


New Booklets. By Count Tolstoi. White Grained 


Boards, Gilt Lettering, price Is. 
Where Love is, there God is also. 
The Two Pilgrims. 

What Men Live by. 


_ ‘* They are very beautiful and impressive stories, and deserve to be widely 
circulated in this form.”—Scotsman. 











47 


Newcastle and Gateshead, History of. Fourteenth 
to Sixteenth Centuries. Edited by Richard Welford. In three 
volumes, Royal 8vo, Cloth, price 12s, 6d. each; Half Morocco, 
15s. ; Full Morocco, 21s. 

‘* Its plan is admirable. . . . The style is excellent, being marked with 
a scholarly refinement. For a record of local annals the book strikes us 
as coming very nearly up to the standard of perfection.” —Antiguarian 
Magazine. 


Newcastle-on-Tyne of To-day. By W. W. Tom- 


linson. Crown 8vo, Paper Cover, price 6d. 


Newcastle Town. An Account of its Rise and 
Progress: Its Struggles and Triumphs: and its Ending. By 
R. J. Charleton, with Illustrations by R. Jobling. Crown 8vo, 
Cloth gilt, price 5s. 


’ New Natural History of Birds, Beasts, and Fishes. 


By John K. Leys, M.A. Foolscap 8vo, Cloth, price Is. 


**Mr. Leys has not only a talent for diverting story-telling, but also for 
instilling into youthful minds happy thoughts, the echo of which will linger 
long in childish memories.” —Methodist Times. 


Nine Months on the Nile, By the Rev. Hampson 
S. Eckersley. Crown 8vo, Cloth, price 2s. 6d. 


** Cannot fail to delight the home reader, and be of great service to all 
future travellers in the same regions who may have the opportunity of 
perusing its instructive pages.”—Mechodist Times. 


Northumberland, Guide to. By W. W. Tomlinson. 
Crown 8vo, Limp Cloth, with Maps, price 5s. 


‘*Mr. Tomlinson’s work is very readable; and we feel he has done the 
county some service in accumulating so many facts, and arraying them in 
such a pleasant manner.”— Berwick Gazette. 


Norway, Popular Guide to. By C. Jurgenson. 


Containing full description of that wonderful Country, Maps of 
the Routes, and every other information useful to the Traveller. 
Revised edition, Cloth, price 3s. 6d. 


** Evidently he knows the country, its fiords, its roads, its people, and its 
customs, and he has the faculty of planning and writing in such wise as to 
make his book a really useful, handy, popular guide.” —Leeds Mercury. 


Novocastrian Series, The. Popular Volumes of 
Fiction. Square 8vo, Paper Covers, price Is. 
A Witness from the Dead. (A Special Reporter’s Story.) 
By Florence Layard. 


** Well told.”—Manchester Guardian. ‘‘ Ingenious and interest- 
ing.” —Scotsman, 


i. al 


48 


Novocastrian Series—continued. 
Cashel Byron’s Profession. By G. Bernard Shaw. 


*€ Cashel Byron ran away from school, and adopted the ‘profession’ 


of pugilism. He also falls in love with a beautiful and wealthy lady. 


The story is powerfully written, and the interest never flags from 


beginning to end.”—Worth Wales Observer. iz 


“Hidden Money in London.” By James Greenwood, “The 


Amateur Casual.” 
Jack Dudley’s Wife. By E. M. Davy, author of “A Prince 


of Como,” etc. 


‘¢ Written with excellent skill, and succeeds in holding the interest 
well up from first to last.” —Scotsman. 


Oak-Bough and Wattle-Blossom: Stories and Sketches by 
Australians in England—Mrs. Campbell Praed, C. Haddon 


Chambers, Douglas B. W. Sladen, Philip Mennell, Edmund - 


Stansfeld Rawson, S. Oldmixon. Edited by A. Patchett 

Martin. 

‘*Two of the stories are particularly good—Mr. Haddon 
Chambers’s ‘Pipe of Peace,’ and Mrs. Campbell Praed’s curiously 
suggestive episode, entitled ‘Miss Pallavant.’ It is one of the 
cleverest short stories which Mrs. Campbell Praed has written.”— 
Academy. 


Police Sergeant C 21: The Story of a Crime. By Reginald 


Barnett. (25th Thousand.) 


‘‘Tt must suffice to call attention to its absorbing and exciting 
interest.”— Globe. 


The Devil’s Whisper. By the author of “Police Sergeant 


SF Bis 


The Kara Yerta Tragedy: An Australian Romance. By 
J. E. Harrison. 


The Policeman’s Lantern: Strange Stories of London Life. 
By James Greenwood, “ The Amateur Casual.” 


‘*Touches of the bizarre aspects of life on the city streets, or 
among the ‘shady’ members of a city population.” —7Zhe Scots 
Observer. 


The Ugly Story of Miss Wetherby. By Richard Pryce, 
author of “An Evil Spirit,” etc. 
‘* A bright tale of clever imposture.”—fall Mali Gazette. 
** Clever.” —The Academy. 

Vane’s Invention: An Electrical Romance. By Walter 
Milbank. 
** Told with much realistic effect.” —Academy. 


Oak-Bough and Wattle- Blossom. (See Movocastrian Series.) 





ers 


5 pa GBR 4 


~~ 








49 


Our American Cousins. By W. E. Adams. Crown 
8vo, Cloth, 2s. 6d. ; or cheap edition, Paper Covers, Is. 
** We can heartily recommend Mr. Adams’s book to those Englishmen 
who want to know something about America.” —Saturday Review. 


‘* Altogether, it is a sober, sensible book, by a level-headed observer of 
men and things.” —/ali Mall Gazette, 


Our Queen: A Sketch of the Life and Times of 


Victoria. By the Author of “Grace Darling.” 7oth Thousand. 
Crown 8vo, Illustrated, Cloth, Bevelled Boards, 2s. 6d.; Gilt 
Edges, 3s. 


In sending forth these sketches of the life and times of our Queen, we 
feel that no apology is needed. It is impossible for agy nation not to feel 
interested in its Sovereign, and we are so happy as to have a monarch 
whose character and actions have so endeared her to the hearts of her 
people that any information respecting her is eagerly welcomed. 


Parental Commandments; or, Warnings to Parents 


on the Physical, Intellectual, rail Moral Training of Children. 
Square 8vo, price 6d. 


** Very sensible advice—agreeably readable—terse, interesting, instruc- 
tive, well considered, and accurate; readers will doubtless learn some 
points which they don’t know.” — Zhe Lancet. 


Pilgrim’s Progress and Holy War. By John 


Bunyan. Crown 8vo, Cloth, Illustrated, 2s. 6d. 


o” 


Police Ser geant Ae By (See Novocastrian Series.) 
Policeman’s Lantern. (See Novocastrian Series.) 


Queens of Literature of the Victorian Era. By the 
Authors of “Our Queen,” “Grace Darling,” etc. Containing 
Lives of Mary Somerville, Harriet Martineau, Elizabeth Barrett- 
Browning, Charlotte Bronté, George Eliot, Felicia Hemans. 
Crown 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled Boards, 2s. 6d. 


Raffalovich, Mark Andre. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 
Bevelled Boards, price 3s. 6d each. 


In Fancy Dress. 


** These sonnets and songs abound 1n pretty conceits, quaint simili- 
tudes, fantastic touches, and antithetical smartness.” —Saturday 
Review. 

‘Careful in construction, and accurate in finish.’— Zhe Academy. 


“Tt is Thyself.” 


*€*Tt is Thyself’ is a book that should not be overlooked, for it is 
full of fine things of slight but dexterous fashion.” — Scottish Leader, 
4 





50 


Religious Sentiments of Charles Dickens. By 
Charles H. McKenzie. ov 
‘The book may be safely recommended to all students of Dickens 

desirous of studying a not unimportant aspect of his many-sided mind and 
character, as entirely free from religious or theological cant and the fulsome 
and nauseous jargon of the sects.” —Soczety. | 


Revolution, Tales of. By Jane Cowen. Crown 
8vo, Cloth, 2s. 6d. 


‘“*The tales are well and simply told; adapted to implant in the mind 
of the reader, and especially of the young, an admiration of patriotic self- 
sacrifice, and a strong sympathy with freedom.”— Cambridge /ndependent. 


Robinson Crusoe. By Daniel Defoe. Crown 8vo, 
Cloth, 2s. . 


Romantic Ballads and Poems of Phantasy. By 
William Sharp. Parchment Limp, 3s. 


‘*Mr. Sharp is a genuine and very delightful poet.” — Manchester 
Examiner, 


Sacred Song. (See Windsor Series.) 


Science Lectures delivered before the Tyneside 
Sunday Lecture Society. Is. 


Animal Life on. the Ocean Surface. By Professor H. N. 
Moseley, M.A., F.R.S. 


Animals that make Limestone. By Dr. P. Herbert 
Carpenter, F.R.S. 


Eye and its Work. By Litton Forbes, M.D., F.R.C.S.E., 
L.R.C.P: 


Facts and Fictions in Zoology. By Dr. Andrew Wilson, 
F.R.S.E. 


Movements of Plants. By Ernest A. Parkyn, M.A. 
Natural History of Instinct. By G. J. Romanes, F.R.S, 


Relations between Natural Science and Literature. By 
Professor H. Nettleship, M.A. 


The Seven Lectures may be had in one volume, price 1s. 6d. 
Scott, Sir Walter. Crown 8vo, Cloth, price 2s. 


Bride of Lammermoor. Kenilworth. 
Heart of Midlothian. Old Mortality. 
Ivanhoe. 


Scott, Michael, Crown 8vo, Cloth, price 2s. 
Tom Cringle’s Log. | Cruise of the Midge. 


fal © 
a 
2 
‘ 
a 
% 
3 
i 
y 


& J ahh 





a ae. 








51 


Scottish Chiefs. By Jane Porter. Crown 8vo, 
Cloth, 2s. 6d. : ‘ 


Sea Poems. By various Authors. Illustrated. 
Square 8vo, Is. 


Seven Pillars of Socialism. An Indictment. By 
Rev. Marsden Gibson, M.A. Crown 8vo, 2d. 


Shorthand, J. D. Lowes’s (Pitman Superseded : 
Taylor Improved), for acquiring in half-an-hour the Method of 
taking down Sermons, Speeches, etc., without the aid of a master. 
Demy 16mo, price 6d. 

“Mr. Lowes has long been considered, and justly so, one of the best 
shorthand writers in the country; and has often been urged to place in 
the hands of the public the system which he practises, and which he has, 

_ by years of careful study, brought to a state of perfection. The system is 

noteworthy for its simplicity; and that it can be efficiently practised is 
proved by the successful career which Mr. Lowes has had as a reporter.”— 
Newcastle Daily Journal. 


Skipsey, Joseph. Carols, Songs, and Ballads. 

Crown 8vo, Bevelled Boards, price 3s. 6d. 

‘*‘ The whole book deserves to be read, and much of it deserves to be 
loved. Mr. Skipsey can find music for every mood, whether he is dealing 
with the real experiences of the pitman, or with the imaginative ex- 
periences of the poet, and his verse has a rich vitality about it. In those 
latter days of shallow rhymers it is pleasant to come across some one to 
whom poetry is a passion, not a profession.”—Pall Mall Gazette. 


Smollett, Tobias. Crown 8vo, Cloth, price 2s. 6d. 
Roderick Random. | Peregrine Pickle. 


Sonnets of this Century. (See Windsor Series.) 
Sonnets of Europe. (See Windsor Series.) 


Sonnets of this Century. With an Exhaustive and 


Critical Essay on the Sonnet, by William Sharp. Edition de 
Luxe. In Crown 4to, printed on Antique Paper, price 12s. 6d., 
and in Demy 4to, printed on Whatman’s Hand-made Paper, 
price 42s. 50 copies printed and numbered. Only a few copies 
now left. The volume contains Sonnets by Lord Tennyson, 
Robert Browning, A..C. Swinburne, Matthew Arnold, Theodore 
Watts, Archbishop Trench, J. Addington Symonds, W. Bell 
Scott, Christina Rossetti, Edward Dowden, Edmund Gosse, 
Andrew Lang, George Meredith, Cardinal Newman, by the late 
Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Mrs. Barrett-Browning, C. Tennyson- 
Turner, etc., and all the Best Writers of this Century. 


52 


Songs and Poems of Fairyland. (See Windsor Series.) 


Songs and Poems of the Great Dominion. 
(See Windsor Series.) 


Songs and Poems of the Sea, (See Windsor Series.) 


State Socialism: a Latter-day Tyranny. By Elijah 
Copland. Crown 8vo, 1d. 


Stockton, Frank R. A Jolly Fellowship. Crown 
8vo, Cloth, Illustrated, 2s. 6d. 


Summer Legends. By Rudolph Baumbach. Trans- 
lated by Helen B. Dole. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 


The Ear: Its Structure, Mechanism, and Connec- 


tion with the Throat. A Popular Lecture. Hints on the 
Domestic Treatment of Throat and Ear Diseases, including 
Affections of the Mouth and Nose, with Prescriptions. By 
Richard Ellis, F.R.C.S., etc. Sixteenth Thousand. Demy 8vo, 
price 6d. 


The Lamplighter. By Miss Cummins. Crown 


8vo, Cloth, 2s. 


The Best Way to Get on: a Practical Guide to 
Money Making and Money Spending. Crown 8vo, Paper 
Cover, Is. 


The Refugees of Martinique. By Eugene Sue. 


Crown 8vo, Paper Cover, Is. 


The Turkish Bath: Its History and Use. By 
Frederic C. Coley, M.D. Contents:—The History of the 
Turkish Bath—How to take a Turkish Bath—Rules for the 
Turkish Bath—The Theory of the Turkish Bath. Crown 8vo, 
Paper Cover, price 6d. 


‘In fact the little book is a complete vade mecum of the Turkish bath, 
brightly written, and bristling with scientific information popularly con- 
veyed.” —Oxford Times. 


The Inheritance. By Miss Ferrier. Crown 8vo, 
Cloth, price 2s. 


The White Slave. By R. Hildreth. Crown 8vo, 


Cloth, price 2s, 














53 


Think It Out. Lecture on Home Rule. By 
Thomas Hodgkin, LL.D., Author of “Italy and her Invaders,” 
etc. Crown 8vo, price 3d. 

‘© A very readable contribution to a well-thrashed-out subject, and is 
particularly valuable, as coming from a well-known and advanced Liberal 
of the North of England, who is respected as being a clear thinker and a 
somewhat advanced politician.” —Gazusboro’ Times. 


Trigonometry. (See Elswick Science Series.) 
Ugly Story of Miss Wetherby. (See Novocastrian Series.) 


Uncle Tom’s Cabin. By Harriet Beecher Stowe. 


Crown 8vo, price 2s. 


Valentine Vox. By H. Cockton. Crown 8vo, 


Cloth, price 2s. 
Vane’s Invention. (See Novocastrian Series.) 


Very Short Stories and Verses for Children. By 
Mrs. W. K. Clifford, Author of “ Anyhow Stories,” etc.  Illus- 
trated by Edith Campbell. 


‘* Mrs. W. K., Clifford’s Very Short Stories form a dainty little volume of 
the tiniest tales ever printed, with happy verses interspersed. She has the 
rare knack of entering into the fantastic thoughts and queer fancies of child- 
hood, and her little poems seem to sing themselves; the words are almost 
music,”—Dazly Telegraph. : 


Village Tales. By Miss Mitford. Crown 8vo, 
Cloth, price 2s. 6d. 


Villa and Cottage Gardening. Specially adapted 
for Scotland, Northern England, and Ireland. By Alexander 
Sweet. Crown 8vo, price Is. 


‘* This is an excellent little book. . . . It is evident that the writer is a 
man who has practised what he teaches, and knows how to give all the 
needful directions for doing the work in an amateur’s garden.” — Gardeners’ 
Chronicle. 


Wealth and Want: a Social Experiment made and 


described by Henry Broadbent, Esq. Being a refutation of 
Henry George’s “ Progress and Poverty.” Crown 8vo, price 6d. 


** A cleverly written brochure. Some of the sketches of character are 
decidedly clever.” —Cambridge Press. 


‘©The author is not without a sense of humour, and can sketch a 
character.” —Saturday Review. 


Why Smoke and Drink? By James Parton. 


Square 8vo, Parchment Limp, Is. 


OO a = . -— =e BE 





B4 3 


Wide, Wide World. By Miss Wetherell. Crown 
8vo, Cloth, price 2s. 6d. 


Wilson’s Tales of the Borders. Crown 8vo, Cloth. 


Now issuing in Is. monthly volumes, 


The Scotsman says :—‘* Those who have read the tales in the unwieldy 
tomes in which they are to be found in the libraries will welcome the 
publication of this neat, handy, and well-printed edition.” 

The Dundee Advertiser says:—‘‘ Considering how attractive are these 
tales, whether regarded as illustrating Scottish life, or as entertaining items 
of romance, there can be no doubt of their continued popularity. We last 
read them in volumes the size of a family Bible, and we are glad to have an 
opportunity to renew our acquaintance with them in a form so much more 
handy and elegant.” 


Windsor Series of Poetical Anthologies. Printed 
on Antique Paper. Crown 8vo. Bound in Blue Cloth, each with 
suitable Emblematic Design on Cover, price 3s. 6d. 


Australian Song, a Century of. Selected and Edited by 
Douglas B. W. Sladen, B.A., Oxon. 


**¢* A Century of Australian Song’ is one of the pleasantest fruits 
of this centenary season.” —Adelaide Observer, 27th October 1888. 


Ballads of the North Countrie. Edited, with Introduction, 
by Graham R. Tomson. ) 
‘Mr, Tomson has provided -an interesting introduction, and a 

brief helpful commentary. The choice is representative of the best 
in the larger minstrelsies, and the book is externally attractive.”— 
SCo/sman. 


Children of the Poets. An Anthology from English and 
American Writers of Three Centuries. Edited by Eric S. 
Robertson, M.A. 


“The selection has been made with much judgment and good 
taste.” — Spectator. 


Early English and Scottish Poetry. Selected and Edited, 
with Introduction and Notes, by H. Macaulay Fitzgibbon. 


“Mr. Fitzgibbon gives some interesting information in his intro- 
duction, which furnishes a good, practical, and serviceable account of 
the subject.” —.Spectator. 


Irish Minstrelsy. Edited, with Notes and Introduction, by 
H. H. Sparling. : 


“* ‘Trish Minstrelsy’ gives us the works which resound in the brain 
of every young Irishman, and which constitute his political gospel. 
They cannot be too attentively studied by all Englishmen who desire 


to understand the real character of Ireland’s demand for Home 
Rule.” —Manchester Guardian. 








Windsor Series—continued. 





Jacobite Songs and Ballads. Selected and Edited, with 
Notes, by G. S. Macquoid. 


** A book which has narrowly escaped being perfect is ‘ Jacobite 
Songs and Ballads,’ edited by Gilbert Macquoid.”—Graphic. 


Sacred Song. A Volume of Religious Verse. Selected and 
arranged, with Notes, by Samuel Waddington. 

** It is almost needless to say that the volume contains many poems 
of great beauty. .. . We may add that the editor’s notes are brief 
and pertinent, and that the contents, as well as the attractive 
appearance of the volume, make it suitable for a present.”— 
Spectator, — 


Sonnets of this Century. With an Exhaustive and Critical 
Essay on the Sonnet. Edited by William Sharp. 
**The selection is very catholic and very complete, and we do not 
remember the name of any poet of the century whose work is worthy 
of consideration whom Mr. Sharp has failed to include.” —Sfectator. 


Sonnets of Europe. A Volume of Translations. Selected 
and arranged, with Notes, by Samuel Waddington. 
** Mr. Waddington has been now for so many years engaged upon 


the Sonnet that he has practically acquired the right to say what he 
likes about it.”—MJanchester Guardian. 


Songs and Poems of the Sea. An Anthology of Poems and 
Passages descriptive of the Sea. Edited by Mrs. William 
Sharp. 

“*It was a happy thought of Mrs. William Sharp to collect so 
many well-said things by singers, past and present, about the ocean 
in ‘Songs and Poems of the Sea.’ Almost everything notable is 
here.” — Graphic. 


Songs and Poems of Fairyland. An Anthology of English 
Fairy Poetry. Selected and arranged, with an Introduction, 
by Arthur Edward Waite, 

** It provides a representative selection of the best fairy poetry in 
British literature, and an appreciative essay on Elfin lore.”— 
Scotsman. 


Songs and Poems of the Great Dominion. (New Anthology 
of Canadian Verse.) Edited by W. D. Lighthall, M.A., of 
Montreal. Pieces and Passages descriptive of Canada, its 
Scenery, Life, Races, History; the Canoe, the Forest, the 
Toboggan; the Settlements, the North-West. 

‘* We are well pleased with the volume from cover to cover.”— 
Morning Chronicle (Montreal). 

**The volume is interesting as well as charming, and deserves to 
be widely read.” — Scotsman. 


56 
Windsor Series—continued. 


Women’s Voices. An Anthology of the most Characteristic 
Poems by English, Scotch, and Irish Women. Edited by 
Mrs. William Sharp. 


** Mrs. Sharp’s volume is well arranged, and is really representative 
of what is excellent in women’s poetry.” —Saturday Review, 


Witness from the Dead, A. (See Novocastrian Series.) 
Women and Men of the Day. . By Lillie Harris. 


Crown 8vo, price Is. 


World of Cant, The. 120th Thousand. Crown — 


8vo, price Is. 
The Daily Telegraph says—‘‘ Decidedly a book with a purpose.” 


The Scotsman says—‘‘ A vigorous, clever, and almost ferocious exposure, 
in the form of a story, of the numerous shams and injustices.” 


Young Folk’s Library. F’cap 8vo, Cloth Elegant, 
Plain Edges, 1s. 6d. Gilt Edges, 2s. An admirable Series for 
the Family or for School Libraries. Splendidly Illustrated. 


Archie Mason: An Irish Story. By Letitia M‘Clintock. 
And other Tales. Illustrated. 


Found Afloat. By Mrs. George Cupples. And other Tales. 
Illustrated. 


Horace Hazlewood ; or, Little Things. By Robert Hope 
Moncrieff. And other Tales. Illustrated. 


Jessie Oglethorpe: The Story of a Daughter’s Devotion. By 
W. H. Davenport Adams. And other Tales. Illustrated. 


Leoline; or, Captured and Rescued. By Emily Grace 
Harding. 


Life of David Livingstone. By J. Donald, F.R.G.S. 


Marius Flaminius: A Story of the Days of Hadrian. By 
Anna J. Buckland. And other Tales. Illustrated. 


Miss Matty; or, Our Youngest Passenger. By Mrs. George 
Cupples. And other Tales. Illustrated. 


Old Andy’s Money: An Irish Story. By Letitia M‘Clintock. 
And other Tales. Illustrated. 


Paul and Marie, the Orphans of Auvergne. And other 
Tales. Illustrated. 








57 


Young Folk’s Library—continued. 


Select Christian Biographies. By Rev. James Gardner, 
A.M., M.D. Illustrated. 


The White Roe of Glenmere. By Mrs. Bickerstaffe. And 
other Tales. Illustrated. 


The Woodfords: An Emigrant Story. By Mrs. Cupples. 
And other Tales. Illustrated. 


The Inundation of the Rhine. From the German. And 
other Tales. Illustrated. 


The Little Orphans. From the German. And other Tales. 
Illustrated. ‘ 


Young Man’s Friend, containing Admonitions for 
the Erring, Counsel for the Tempted, Hope for the Fallen. 
Designed for the Young Man, the Husband, and the Father. 
By Daniel C. Eddy, D.D. Crown 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled Boards, 
price 2s. 6d. 





Young Woman's Friend; or, the Duties, Trials, 
Loves, and Hopes of Woman. Designed for the Young Woman, 
the Young Wife, and the Mother. By Daniel C. Eddy, D.D. 
Crown 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled Boards, price 2s. 6d. 





ADDENDA TO ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BOOKS. 





A Scheme for National Pensions. By Rev. W. 


Moore Ede, M.A. Crown 8vo. Price One Penny. 
Bogatzky’s Golden Treasury. Square 8vo, Cloth, ts. 


Camelot Series, The. Monthly Shilling Volumes. — 


Cloth, cut or uncut edges. 


Aristotle, The Ethics of. Chase’s Translation (newly 


revised), with Introductory Essay by George Henry Lewes. — 


Davis, Thomas, The Prose Writings of. Edited, with an 
Introduction, by T. W. Rolleston. 


‘* So far as Irishmen are concerned, among ‘the voices which can 
affect our lives so greatly to ends of wisdom and happiness,’ there is 
none more potent than that of Thomas Davis ; and no one has more 
often or more eloquently reminded us of this than Mr. T. W. 
Rolleston.”—Freeman’s Journal. 


Early Reviews of Great Writers. Selected and edited, with 


an Introduction, by E. Stevenson. 


‘The selection has the double attraction of a literary curiosity, 
and of a carefully chosen set of examples of the principles of criticism 
that had sway in the beginning of this century.’’—Scotsman. 


Elizabethan England: from ‘A Description of England,” by 
William Harrison (in ‘‘ Holinshed’s Chronicles”). Edited 
by Lothrop Withington, with Introduction by F. J. 
Furnivall, LL.D. 


** Skillfully selected, and introduced by Dr. Furnivall with char- 
acteristic energy, Holinshed ought to prove not the least popular of 
the neat and well-varied Camelot books.” —Saturday Review. 


English Fairy and other Folk Tales. Edited by E. Sidney 
Hartland. 


‘*Mr. Hartland has succeeded in bringing together an excellent 
collection.” — Scotsman, 


Landor’s Pericles and Aspasia. With an Introductory Note 
by Havelock Ellis. 








59 


Camelot Series—consinued. 


More’s Utopia, and Life of Edward V. (including Roper’s 
Life of More). Edited, with an Introduction, by Maurice 
Adams, 

‘© Mr. Maurice Adams deserves special thanks for the appreciative 
and deeply interesting article on Sir Thomas More and his writings 


which forms the introduction to this charming little book.”— 
Glasgow Herald, 


Northern Studies. By Edmund Gosse. With a Note by 
Ernest Rhys. 
‘¢The essays, taken together, form the best account of modern 


Scandinavian literature that is available to an English reader.”— 
Scotsman. 


Sadi: Gulistan, or Flower Garden. Translated, with an Essay, 
by James Ross; and a Note upon the translator by 
Charles Sayle. | 
**The book is one of interest, and owes its chief charm to the 

numerous anecdotes, aphorisms, and 02 mots with which Sadi 
illustrates and enforces his -didactic instructions.” — Manchester 
Guardian. 


Spence’s ‘“‘Anecdotes, Observations, and Characters of Books 
and Men.” A Selection, Edited, with an Introduction and 
Notes, by John Underhill. . 


z **Mr. Underhill has given, in convenient form and with much good 
taste, a useful and compact selection of the most interesting portion 
of one of the most famous gatherings of eighteenth-century aza,”— 
Saturday Review. 


Canterbury Poets, The. Cloth, Red Edges, 1s. ; 
Cloth, Uncut Edges, 1s. ; Red Roan, Gilt Edges, 2s. 6d. 


Great Odes: English and American. Selected and edited, 
with Introduction, by William Sharp. 


**The selection is a judicious one, and gives a good idea of the 
Great Odes of the English-speaking races.” —Ox/ford Review. 


Humorous Poems of the Century. Edited by Ralph H. 
Caine. 
** Mr. Ralph H. Caine has got together a really amusing collection 


of humorous poems of the century to add to the Canterbury Poets.” 
— Manchester Guardian. 


Lady of Lyons, The, and other Plays. By Lord Lytton. 
Edited, with an Introduction, by Farquharson Sharp. 
‘* Many people will be glad to have the text of all three pieces in 


the neat and handy form in which they are here presented.” —Scottishk 
Leader. 


2 —— Ps os  —— = = I oe ee re ee re ee SE eee ee Se eee 
‘ - ¢ - 2 =i u ~~ Ue 





60 


Canterbury Poets—continued. 


Owen Meredith (the Earl of Lytton), Poems of. Selected, 
with an Introduction, by M. Betham-Edwards. 
‘¢ The selection is well made, and the selector’s brief criticisms are 
adequate and to the point.” —Scotsman. 


Painter-Poets, The. Selected and edited, with an Introduc- 
tion and Notes, by Kineton Parkes. 


Career of a Nihilist, The. A Novel. By Stepniak. 


Crown 8vo, Cloth, price 5s. 

‘© One expects a Nihilist romance by Stepniak to be full of the 
actualities of the situation, to display the genuine and intimate 
sentiments of revolutionary society in Russia, and to correct nota 
few of the impressions formerly gathered from novelists who only 
know that society by hearsay and at second-hand. The reader will 
not be disappointed in this expectation. No one can read this story 

. . without deep interest.” —Atheneum. 


Contemporary Science Series, The. Crown $8vo, 
Cloth, 3s. 6d. per vol.; Half Morocco, 6s. 6d. 


Aryans, The Origin of the. By Dr. Isaac Taylor. With 
numerous Illustrations. 
‘“‘The author has accomplished his purpose with a lucidity, care- 
fulness, and comprehensiveness that leave nothing to be desired. 
No better book on the subject, indeed, is likely to be accessible to 
the English reader wishing to become informed of the extraordinary 
changes of doctrine that have taken place during the last nine or ten 
years in regard to the subject of which it treats.” —Mewcastle Leader. é 


Criminal, The. Numerous Illustrations. By Havelock 
Ellis. t 
‘*The value of Mr. Ellis’s book is that it brings together for the 

first time in our language, and within brief compass, the result of 
the scientific investigations that have been made into the charac- 
teristics of the criminal, viewed both on the physical and on the 
moral or intellectual side.” —Scotsman. 


Electricity in Modern Life. By G. W. de Tunzelmann. With 

88 Illustrations. 

‘**Tt is with much pleasure that we call attention to this volume, 
for the author has very successfully grappled with-the difficulty of 
placing so intricate a subject in a form simple and plain enough to 
be understood by the ordinary reader. . . . The volume is illustrated 
by numerous carefully-drawn pictures and diagrams.” —Gwardzan. 


; 
; 
Evolution and Disease. (135 Illustrations.) By J. Bland 


~~ — 


_—_—— ree ee en, 


Sutton. 

‘* The work is of special value to professional men, yet educated 
persons generally will find much in it which it is both interesting and 
important to know.” — Zhe Scottish Weekly. 


61 


Contemporary Science Series—continued. — 
Hypnotism. By Albert Moll. 


‘*The book is a valuable contribution to the science of which it 
treats.” — Volunteer Service Gazette. 


Manual Training. By Dr. C. M. Woodward, Director of the 
Manual Training School, Washington University, St. Louis, 


Mo. Illustrated. [ September. 
Physiognomy and Expression. (Illustrated.) By P. Mante- 
gazza. 


‘* A good, popular treatment of the subject of physiognomy, which 
should embody the results of recent scientific inquiry, was decidedly 
a desideratum, and in the volume before us we have the want very 
adequately met.” —Shefield Independent. 

Sanity and Insanity. By Charles Mercier, M.B. With 
Illustrations. 

** The author’s treatment of his whole subject is masterly, and no 
reader can glance at it, even superficially, without gaining much 
information which will certainly be of interest, and may quite possibly 
be of practical value to him in the relations of life.”—Bradford 
Observer. 

Sex, The Evolution of. By Professor Patrick Geddes and 
J. Arthur Thomson. With go Illustrations, and about 300 
pages. 

** A work which, for range and grace, mastery of material, 
originality, and incisiveness of style and treatment, is not readily to 
be matched in the long list of books designed more or less to popu- 
larise science. . . . The series will be, if it goes on as it has begun, 
one of the most valuable now current.” —Scottzsh Leader. 

Village Community, The, in Britain. By G. L. Gomme. 
Numerous Illustrations. 

** His book will probably remain for some time the best work of 
reference for facts bearing on those traces of the village community 
which have not been effaced by conquest, encroachment, and the 
heavy hand of Roman law.” —Scottish Leader. 


Dombey and Son. By Charles Dickens. Crown 


8vo, Cloth, 2s. 


Descriptive Geometry. By T. H. Eagles, M.A. 
Crown 8vo, Cloth, price 3s. 6d. 


Fabian Essays in Socialism. Demy 8vo, Paper 
Cover, Is. 


German Insurance Laws; or, How they Manage 
National Insurance in Germany. By the Rev. W. Moore 
Ede, M.A. (formerly Lecturer on Political Economy in the 
University of Cambridge). Crown 8vo. Price One Penny. 





Golden Land, The. By Samuel Storey, M.P. Cloth, q 


Demy 8vo. With numerous Illustrations. Price 3s. 6d. 


‘‘ Tf all the literary productions of globe-trotters were like this, we ! 


should have no cause for complaint.” —Glasgow Herald. 


Gordon, Life of General. Royal 8vo. Ilhyseieed, 
Price 7s. 6d. 


Great Writers. Bi-Monthly Shilling Vola 


Cut or Uncut Edges. A New Series of Critical Biographies. | 


Edited by Professor Eric S. Robertson. 


Austen, Jane. By Goldwin Smith. 


‘Mr. Goldwin Smith has told the simple story of Jane Austen's 
life and work in a genially appreciative manner that makes it a 
valuable contribution to our literature.” — Z7adle. 


Balzac. By Frederick Wedmore. 


‘* A finished study, a concentrated summary, a succinct osiatiae of 
Balzac’s successes and failures, and the causes of these successes and 
failures, and of the scope of his genius.” —Scottish Leader. 


Browning. By William Sharp. 


** This little volume is a model of excellent English, and in every» 


respect it seems to us what a biography should be.” —Pudiie Opinion. 


Byron. By Hon. Roden Noel. 


‘* This is one of the best monographs we have seen concerning the 
life and works of Byron.” — Volunteer Service Gazette. 


Eliot, George. By Oscar Browning. 


‘Mr. Browning’s book is well written and easily read, whilst the 


information supplied in it cannot fail to prove attractive to all who 
take an interest in literature.”—Brechin Advertiser. 


Hawthorne, Nathaniel. By Moncure Conway. 
Lessing. By T. W. Rolleston. 


‘*Mr. Rolleston’s life of Lessing is a most instructive book, and 


shows a mastery: of his subject.” —Cambridge Independent. 
Milton. By Richard Garnett, LL.D. 


‘* Within equal compass the life-story of the great poet of 
Puritanism has never been more charmingly or adequately told.”— 
Scottish Leader. 


Schopenhauer, Arthur. By William Wallace. 


Holmes, Oliver Wendell. Crown 8vo, Cloth, gilt 
top, Is. 6d. each. 
The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. 
The Poet at the Breakfast-Table. 
The Professor at the Breakfast-Table. 


£ 





Ibsen’s Prose Dramas, in 4 vols. Edited by 
* ‘William Archer. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 3s. 6d. each. 


Vol. I.—** A Doll’s House,” “The League of Youth,” and 
' “ The Pillars of Society.” 


Vol. II.—“ Ghosts,” “*An Enemy of the People,” and ‘The 
Wild Duck.” 


Vol. III.—‘‘Lady Inger of Ostrat,” “The Vikings at 
'  Helgeland,” and “ The Pretenders.” 
‘‘ Mr. Archer’s translations are in every way admirable.” —Graphic. 


Ingraham, Rev. J. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 2s. 


The Throne of David. 
The Pillar of Fire. 


Imitation of Christ, The. Square 8vo, Cloth, ts. 
Uniform with Canterbury Poets. 


Impressions of Russia. By Dr. Georg Brandes. 
(With Portrait of the Author.) 353 pages, Crown 8vo, price 2s. 6d. 
Uniform with Count Tolstoi’s works. 


‘‘Dr. Brandes has had exceptionable advantages for studying the 
land and the people, and his book supplies much interesting informa- 
tion about a country of which less is known than of most European 
nations.” — Brechin Advertiser, 


Kreutzer Sonata, and Family Happiness. By Count 
Tolstoi. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. Half Polished Morocco, gilt top, 5s. 


Music of the Poets, The: A Musicians’ Birthday 


Book. Edited by Eleonore D’Esterre-Keeling. Quarto, Cloth 
Elegant ; Emblematic Design on Cover; Gilt edges, 6s. May 
be had in a variety of Fancy Bindings. 


‘¢ A Musicians’ Birthday Book is one of those happy ideas that 
seem to have been yearning for fulfilment; now that it is realised 
every one asks why we should have had to wait so long for it. 
Certainly not for lack of conscious straining after novelty. Season 
after season there have appeared too manifest efforts to depart from 
the formal diary with poetic quotations of more or less appositeness ; 
yet it was left for Eleonore D’Esterre Keeling to draw upon the great 
storehouse of personal interest and romance in music. The birthday 
book she publishes is a really beautiful production. Against a 
certain number of the days there are set only lines from the poets, 
these being chosen for their relation to musical subjects; but against 
others we find bars of music enclosing a suggestive theme. The 
music quotations are rendered doubly interesting by being, in a 
number of instances, fac-simile productions of the composers’ manu- 
script. . . . The book ought to have a place in every music stand.” 
— Scottish Leader. 


64 





Mysteries and Adventures. By A. Conan Doyle. 
Square 8vo, Paper Cover, Is. (in the Novocastrian Series. 
** The collection can be most cordially recommended to all who 

like sensational stories when told with skill.” — Yorkshire Post, 


Scott’s Border Antiquities of Scotland and England. 
Royal Folio. Half Morocco antique, £5, 5s. 


Sevastopol. By Count Tolstoi. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 
Half Polished Morocco, gilt top, §s. 


** The pictures are as vivid and interesting as anything to be found 
in ‘ War and Peace,’ and they are like nothing else in literature.” — 
Scotsman. 


Stanley and Africa. By author of “ Life of General 
Gordon.” Illustrated. Crown 8vo, Cloth gilt, 2s, 6d.; also 
imperial 8vo, Cloth gilt, 1os. 6d. 


*€ The book is distinctly interesting all through. It should be in 
every town and village library.” —Derbyshire Gazette. 


The Elixir of Long Life, and other Stories. By 


Honoré Balzac. Paper Cover, Is. 


The Land of Sunshine and Gold. By E. Towers. 


Crown 8vo, Cloth, price 3s. 6d. Illustrated. 


Uncle Toby’s Birthday Book. Cloth, 16mo, Is. 


Vanity Fair. By W. M. Thackeray. Crown 8vo, 
; Cloth, 2s, 











—LS 


‘Crown 8vo, Cloth. Price 3s. 6d. per Vol. ; Half Mor., 6s. 6d. 


THE CONTEMPORARY SCIENCE SERIES 
Epirep By HAVELOCK ELLIS. 


Ttlustrated Volumes, containing between 300 and 400 pp. 





Already Published :-— 


THE EVOLUTION OF SEX. By Prof. Patrick GEDDEs 
and J. ARTHUR THOMSON. 90 Illustrations, and 322 pages. 


ELECTRICITY IN MODERN LIFE. By G. W. DE 
TUNZELMANN. With 88 Illustrations, and 272 pages. 


THE ORIGIN OF THE ARYANS. By Dr. Isaac Taytor. 
With 30 Illustrations, and 339 pages. 


PHYSIOGNOMY AND EXPRESSION. é(Illustrated.) By 
P. MANTEGAZZA. 336 pages. 


EVOLUTION AND DISEASE. By J. Bianp Sutton, 
F.R.C.S. With 137 Illustrations, and 304 pages. 


THE VILLAGE COMMUNITY. By G. L. Gomme. With 


numerous Maps and Plans. 
THE CRIMINAL. By Havetocxk Extis.  (Illustrated.) 


SANITY AND INSANITY. By Dr. C. Mercier. 
(Illustrated.) 


HYPNOTISM. By Dr. ALBERT Mott (Berlin). 
MANUAL TRAINING. By Dr. C. M. Woopwaro. 





Other volumes to follow at short intervals, including ‘‘The Laws of Life in 
Language,” “ Bacteria and their Products,” ‘‘The Evolution of Marriage,” ‘‘ The 
Development of Electro-Magnetic Theory,” “‘ The Science of Fairy Tales,” ‘‘ Capital 
and Interest,” “Matter and Force,” “Industrial Development,” ‘The Factors of 
Organic Evolution,” etc. 


The following Writers are preparing Volumes for this Series :— 


Prof. E. D. Cope, Prof. G. F. Fitzgerald, Prof. J. Geikie, Prof. 
J. Jastrow (Wisconsin), Prof. A. C. Haddon, E. Sidney Hartland, Prof. 
C. H. Herford, Prof. Karl Pearson, Sidney Webb, Dr. Sims Woodhead, etc. 





London : WALTER Scort, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 











The Autocrat of 
the Breakfast-Table. 





The Poet at 
the Breakfast-Table. 





The Professor at 
the Breakfast-Table. 


a 


Reduced fac simile of HOLMES and LANDOR. 
3 Vols., Crown 8vo, Cloth, Gilt Top, in Shell Case. Price 4s. Gd. 
3 Vols., Crown 8vo0, Cloth, Gilt Top, in Cloth Pedestal Case, 5s. — 

















The Vols. may be had separately at Is. 6d. each. 
Also in Half Polished Morocco, Gilt Top, Antique. 





UNIFORM WITH ABOVE. 
SELECTIONS FROM LANDOR (in 3 Vols.):— 
1 IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS. 
D2 PENTAMERON. 
3 PERICLES AND ASPASIA. 





London: WALTER Scott, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row. 


. 





yf 





4 ye 
| 


- 
| rf, 
7 u 
(a 
; i 
- . 
: 
# + 
; ‘ Ss 
| ote we 
ia Hh 
: AY : 
7 aa if : 

" Aa 

¥ . 

ih y 

‘ 
, 4 
ny 
5 ? 

: vj 
Wy 
if 

t 

h 

fs 
im 
4 
: 
- 
if * 





ghar 








wn RS ast 






4 
- ¢ 
= . 
‘ eat 3 4 
a, Fee. ; 
e ~** , 
: ' a Saget : 
4 ce 
% : va Ls » 
a= ; 7 
“fi > 
ig . 
. 
< 
z ¥ 
= -* 
hoy 
4 
4. 
. be 
- 
5 - 
¥ 
4 * = 
- : " 





«vend | Gd LIST DEC 7 1949 





*pe pz *ysTTTutu eB JO. 1Seoteo ouL 
[WOEAOTTeyyTW TexZz1e9 ‘éysupyoASty | 
Sv9967 







































































Besse ic akaa hed 



































ELE 






































































































































at ENS EK to 
= os 
















































































3 SSaetetes , Pat 
pavewe ue e ae 
Set tre ye Se Padme Rone asiset tp app ere 
3 aaa .: = 
oe . * 3 
moeaeout SPAS : fon tention 







































































—_ 

















eek oe 



























































SIS SS 


























Leweven. = 

RSME Shae Tk ee OE OS 
2 one SNe 

ew 


eth wo Norn One EE y 























Aaa 
earnite wee Keen G 














5 


SS 
< Sey